


Legends of Brightmoon

by CountDorku



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Abduction, Adoption, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Amnesia, Angella isn't winning any parenting awards either, Angst with a Happy Ending, Betrayal, Catra (She-Ra) Needs a Hug, Dialogue Heavy, F/F, Female Friendship, Found Family, Horde Glimmer, Hugs, I mean Catra is in it are you surprised, I'm sorry Scorpia you deserved better, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Jealousy, Lesbian Adora (She-Ra), Lesbian Catra (She-Ra), Long Lost/Secret Relatives, Male-Female Friendship, Manipulation, Platonic Relationships, Rebellion Catra, Redemption, References to He-Man and the Masters of the Universe, Resentment, Reunions, Rivalry, Role Swap, Scars, Shadow Weaver | Light Spinner (She-Ra)'s A+ Parenting, What-If, like jesus christ two thirds of this fic is probably variably angsty conversations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-16
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-07 08:50:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 32,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21455320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CountDorku/pseuds/CountDorku
Summary: After her baby daughter, the Princess Glimmer, is abducted by Shadow Weaver and cannot be recovered, Queen Angella takes an orphaned magicat as her ward, naming her Catra. Meanwhile, Glimmer is raised alongside Adora in the Fright Zone.When Catra and her best friend, Bow, find Adora and a mysterious sword in the Whispering Woods, nothing will ever be the same for any of them...and Catra will need to figure out who she truly, deep down, wants to be.
Relationships: Adora & Bow & Catra & Glimmer (She-Ra), Adora & Bow & Catra (She-Ra), Adora/Glimmer (She-Ra), Angella & Catra (She-Ra), Angella & Glimmer (She-Ra), Bow & Catra (She-Ra), Catra & Glimmer (She-Ra), Catra/Scorpia (She-Ra), Glimmer & Shadow Weaver | Light Spinner (She-Ra)
Comments: 51
Kudos: 152





	1. Children of Brightmoon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adora finds a mysterious sword, and Bow and Catra find Adora.

_Sixteen years ago_

Castaspella bit back a curse. She wasn’t the _most_ gifted sorceress in the world, but she knew this tracking spell was drawn correctly. Which meant that the interference here was magical in nature.

“I’m sorry, Angella,” she said. “I’m being blocked. Whoever did this is a greater sorcerer than I will ever be.”

“Shadow Weaver.” Angella’s voice was straining under the pressure of her emotions. “It can only be her: who else would go to such lengths to steal away Micah’s heir?”

“She is the most likely culprit.” Blue light flared as Castaspella slammed a fist into the magic circle. “The Horde will pay dearly for this.”

“I’ll muster the troops,” said General Esmerelda, her eyes narrow. “We march for the Fright Zone-”

“No.”

Castaspella involuntarily flinched at Angella’s tone. “Angella-”

“We cannot, Castaspella.” Angella’s head was bowed, as though the weight of the kingdom had come to rest between her shoulder blades. “With the Alliance in disarray, we cannot defend Brightmoon and assault the Fright Zone simultaneously. I will not condemn others to this pain…no matter what I could achieve in so doing.” A single tear struck the floor of the nursery. “Double the guard. She cannot be allowed to return. Prepare evacuation routes to Plumeria and Seaworthy; if they demand my surrender for my daughter’s return, I will accept the offer, and those who wish to continue fighting will need a fair chance to flee the kingdom. And dispatch messengers to the other kingdoms with a warning; Shadow Weaver may attempt this crime again.”

“At once, your Majesty.” Esmerelda saluted and strode out, her black headscarf flaring as she turned. She usually wore green – Castaspella thought it suited her quite well – but this was her way of paying tribute to the lost king.

Angella held up a hand to silence Castaspella’s next words, and said, “You too, Castaspella. I need to be alone.”

The sorceress paused at the door. Was it really wise to leave Angella by herself right now, after such a shock?

She heard the creak of the balcony door, and Angella’s voice rang out, “Radiance of the moons!”

“Radiance of the moons” was a pretty common opening for a prayer in Brightmoon, as it was across much of Etheria…but not in this tone. Angella’s voice was a snarl, her wounds laid bare to the moonlight. This was the kind of prayer you made before you overturned the altar and set the temple on fire. This was a prayer with knuckles in it.

“Long ago, O moons, I pledged to give whatever it took to defend Brightmoon. And you took me up on that, didn’t you? You took my husband. My daughter. Even my self-respect. But I must protect Brightmoon…even as my daughter stays in the claws of the witch. I must protect Brightmoon…although every fibre of my being tells me to shatter the Fright Zone like glass for what they have done to me. What _you_ have done to me.

“What else will you claim, O moons? Do I have _anything_ left for you to take? If it is my destruction you seek, then I beg of you – hurry up. Bring my end swiftly. I cannot bear to lose any more parts of myself.”

Castaspella’s vision blurred as tears filled her eyes. This was hard enough for her – losing her niece so soon after her brother. But Angella was immortal, and no-one had seen another of her kind in at least a century.

How much worse could it be to lose your child if they were the only one like you in the world?

* * *

_Now_

In the Fright Zone, battle had been joined. Bolts of green light flew across the arena, striking metal – and occasionally flesh.

Kyle grunted as a bolt struck him in the midsection, hurling him to the ground. The rest of the squad – Adora, Lonnie and Rogelio – dashed past, taking up firing positions.

Adora darted around the holographic trees, looking for a way to close. She closed in on one of the flanks, scything her weapon down with all the force she could muster-

A beam of purple energy struck the target, shattering the fragile Fright Zone metal and hurling the robot back. The beam’s path through the air remained visible for a few seconds, like a line of thick indigo smoke.

Breath hissed between Adora’s clenched teeth, and she leaped towards a fresh target, only for another beam to pluck that one from its feet before she could strike. A third enemy, a third beam.

This was starting to get annoying.

The ground shook, and a smile spread over Adora’s features. The Queen. An ideal chance for a quick win.

She jumped at a fourth robot, and as expected, a beam of purple energy struck it in the eye, pushing it back – but that worked for her. She grabbed the machine as it shot backwards, using its momentum to transition into a flying leap that took her past the next line of robots. Two of them, rotating to follow her movements, managed to shoot each other. Rolling as she landed, she dodged a blast from the massive war engine the Horde used to portray the rebel queen, then began to scale its legs, heading for its weak points: the turrets and the eye were both fairly fragile.

Another energy beam smacked into the machine, but while it dented the plating, it missed all the vital components. Adora’s strikes did not, and ringing to the sound of tearing metal and crackling electricity, the Queen slumped to the ground, its lights dimming.

On the other side of the battlefield, Adora’s best friend glared at her. Okay, stealing her kills had been a little mean, but all was fair in love and war, right? Besides, it was hard getting any respect in the Horde when your hair was this colour – even trimmed fairly short, pink was pink. A win here would have really helped, and probably gotten Shadow Weaver to calm down a bit as a bonus.

Glimmer slung her staff over her back, the bat-winged badge at its tip gleaming dully in the arena light. At least she was getting better at the force bolt spell.

* * *

The blue-skinned trainer checked his clipboard, his face twisted into a permanent scowl. “Final scores: Adora, thirteen points; Glimmer, eleven points; Lonnie, seven points; Rogelio, seven points; Kyle, no points. Again. Nice work out there, Adora, Glimmer. Shadow Weaver told me she wanted to speak with you two. All right, dismissed.”

The cadets saluted and headed for the lockers. Adora’s and Glimmer’s were right next to each other, as they had been for years, making it easy for them to talk.

“Kill-stealing, Glimmer? Really? You’re better than that.” Adora defused the barb with a gentle smile.

“It’s not like it worked,” said Glimmer sourly. “You still won.”

“Only by two points, though! And you left Lonnie and Rogelio in the dust. If Shadow Weaver isn’t satisfied with that, that’s her problem.”

“Shadow Weaver likes to make her problems my problems,” muttered Glimmer, but she was drowned out by the slamming of locker doors.

* * *

“Excellent work, Adora,” oozed Shadow Weaver. “Lord Hordak is most impressed with your accomplishments. He has awarded you a promotion to Force Captain.”

“Force Captain?” gasped Adora, and Glimmer’s eyes narrowed. Adora had always been surprisingly gifted in battle for someone who could be so clumsy and oblivious, but a command posting right out of basic training?

“Report to the quartermaster for your badge. While your comrades complete their training, you will lead a squadron in tomorrow’s assault on Thaymor.”

With Adora dispatched, Shadow Weaver turned her gaze on Glimmer, who backed away slightly.

“Glimmer, my child, you’re nearing the end of your training.” The elder sorceress’s voice was kindly, or as near to it as she got, but Glimmer knew – only too well – that rage hid underneath. “This project is important to me, and to Hordak as well. If you do well, you could be the first of the Horde’s war sorcerers…but that cannot happen if you will not achieve your potential!”

“I did half again as well as any of the others!” snapped Glimmer.

“A surprising feat in itself given how much effort you squandered on childish pranks!” The rage wasn’t hidden any more. “If you cannot outperform a single warrior with a simple blunt instrument, how do you intend to defeat the forces of Brightmoon?”

* * *

“Myamya myamya _defeat the forces of Brightmoon_,” finished Glimmer bitterly, staring out over the Fright Zone from her perch. From up here, you could almost ignore the perpetual scent of burning trash that hung over the Horde’s stronghold. “Maybe by leading the squads of sorcerers you keep telling me you intend to train, Shadow Weaver, instead of trying to fight the entire Rebellion myself in my underwear!”

“Calm down, Glimmer. Come on.” Adora awkwardly patted Glimmer on the arm. “It’s not just Shadow Weaver, is it? You seem…” She visibly struggled to find the right word, eventually settling on, “…uncomfortable.”

Glimmer’s eyes flickered down from the horizon. “I had the dream again last night. The voices, the lights, the big, glowing rock. I just wish I knew what it meant. And I know the answers aren’t here in the Fright Zone.”

Adora thought for a moment. Her new badge brought with it a lot of authority. Such as the authority to requisition a vehicle.

“Why don’t we go see if we can find some?”

* * *

_Later_

Bow darted through the trees at the edge of the Whispering Woods, eyes narrowed, ears pricked for the slightest sound. Even without seeing or hearing his pursuer, he knew she was out there, watching, moving silently toward him. There was a rustle in the bushes to his left, so he turned right. No way his pursuer would be so sloppy as to give her position away-

“Hey, Bow!”

A warm smile forced its way onto Bow’s features as he turned around again. His pursuer was hanging upside-down from a tree branch, fangs on full display in a grin, her mismatched eyes twinkling in the moonlight. The only magicat in Brightmoon was wearing her usual dark purple, with a blue-grey jacket and her silver mask – designed to resemble a crescent moon.

“Hey, Catra. Out for a moonlit stroll, as usual?”

“Yeah, it’s just _so romantic_ out here in the creepy forest.” She rolled her eyes. “So where’ve you been, anyway? It’s been a real snoozefest out here without you. Visiting your dads?”

Catra had learned Bow’s little secret after following him all the way from Brightmoon about six months ago. There was currently something of an uneasy peace between Catra and George, but she was still only allowed in the library if she was on her best behaviour.

“Testing out my new tracker pad. I’m picking up some really powerful First Ones tech in the Whispering Woods. The kind of thing that might give the Rebellion an edge.”

“Well, then.” Catra dropped from the branch with an acrobat’s grace, landing on her feet, her ponytail trailing behind. “What are we waiting for?”

“I thought I’d tell someone in the palace, make sure that someone knew where we were in case anything went wrong-”

“Bow, Bow, _Bow_.” Catra shook her head theatrically. “You know that getting anything done in Brightmoon takes hours, and who knows what could happen to it in the meantime? I say we just go. Grab your thing, haul it back, dump it on the breakfast table and wait for the applause.”

“Wouldn’t the queen be mad if you took off like that again?”

Bow could have kicked himself. Even in the darkness, he could see the flash of anger in Catra’s eyes at the mention of Angella. Catra’s emotions were volatile at best – even Bow, her closest, possibly only friend, could expect the occasional dose of hostility – and Angella, the focal point of all Catra’s most desperate hopes and fears, only aggravated that.

Catra’s voice thrummed with barely suppressed emotion as she said, “We’re going. Now.”

* * *

That had not gone to plan.

Finding the sword, that had been fine. Capturing a Horde soldier, that had been fine – awesome, even. Bow trying to buddy up to her, that was _annoying_, but trying to get Bow to _not_ try to make friends with everyone in a fifty-foot radius would take a hammer and a length of chain, so she was going to have to live with it.

Being attacked by a giant bug, and the Horde soldier getting the sword, yelling something about ‘the honour of Grayskull’ and starting to glow, that was new and unexpected, and Catra didn’t like it one bit.

“Uh, Catra? Do you see that too, or-”

Catra made a sound like a furious animal and slashed at a convenient tree, her claws cutting through the bark. That was just typical. _Of course_ the Horde girl would be a princess. Why wouldn’t she be? So sorry, Catra, we put the wrong address on your dream and someone else got it. Best we can offer you is a friend with questionable dress sense; would that be acceptable?

“I’ll…take that as a yes,” said Bow, and Catra came back to reality as envy’s iron grip on her heart relaxed. She could use this. Turning up to Angella with First One technology and a completely unknown princess should earn her _some_ kind of attention, at least.

As the giant bug settled into a seemingly catatonic state, the light died and the Horde girl dropped the sword in shock. Catra snatched it out of the air, making sure it didn’t even touch the ground.

“What did you do?!” The Horde girl’s expression was a mixture of surprise and fury.

Catra’s own gorge rose in response, and she snapped back, “What did _we_ do? I don’t know if you noticed, but we were over here! What did _you_ do?”

The girl pulled back. “You’re a princess, aren’t you? You…infected me somehow!”

Catra laughed bitterly. “Me? A princess? I _wish_. Come on, spy. We’re going to get you to Brightmoon. And I’m going to make sure you never do that again.”

As she began to walk, Catra whispered the sword’s…activation code, or magic words, or whatever that was. No use. Oh, well, it was worth a shot.

The giant bug made a noise like six lions fighting in a very large sack as it woke up, and Catra swore under her breath.

* * *

“What is it with tonight and giant bugs?!” snarled Catra as the group fled through the crumbling ruin. The corridor echoed to the sound of the spiders’ pursuit, their metal claws scrabbling against the ancient floor.

“At least…we’re getting…plenty of exercise,” said Bow, breathing heavily. “Here!”

A moment of confusion later, Catra realised he had shoved them down a side corridor, too narrow for the larger spiders to follow them. A few vicious strikes from Catra’s claws at the smaller ones, and there was enough of a barricade to buy them a moment to breathe.

“Give – her – the – sword!” said Bow, gasping for air.

“She’s _Horde_, Bow! She can’t be trusted! Come on, there’s gotta be a way out somewhere around here…”

They emerged into a room with what did, in fact, look like an exit. Closed, but it still looked useable if they could get it open. Unfortunately, as well as an exit, it had a large opening, which appeared to be full of spiders.

Catra turned to the others. “Horde girl, do…I dunno, First One stuff. Get the door open. Bow and I will hold them off, then we bail when you get the door open.”

“I thought you didn’t trust me?”

A low growl escaped from Catra’s throat. “I’m willing to trust that you don’t want to die in here!”

Catra wasn’t an expert on swordsmanship, but she was pretty sure she could figure out the basics: swing the pointy bit at the opponent’s face. A bit like her usual fighting style, only with an extra few feet of reach.

“Here they come!” yelled Bow, nocking an arrow.

* * *

Catra blinked in the early dawn half-light. Bow and their captive were looking down at her, her head hurt, and her side felt like it had been tenderised with a meat mallet. She’d had worse mornings, but not many.

“You should see the other two guys,” she said woozily, before her brain loaded up the last minute or so before she got knocked out. “Did I really pick a fight with a spider that big?”

“Yes, actually,” said Bow. “Getting both you and the sword out of there wasn’t easy, let me tell you.” As her eyes adjusted, she noticed that he had a couple of deep scratches, and his clothes were torn.

She focused on the Horde girl. “What are you even still doing here?”

“What?”

“Look, if it had been two Horde soldiers capturing me, and one was laid out unconscious, I would have been at least a mile away before they noticed I’d moved. You’re still here. What gives?”

The girl looked down. “I want to know what’s happening to me, and I’m not going to find out in the Fright Zone. I was told I was nothing before Hordak took me in…but I’ve been told a lot of things I’m not sure are true any more. I want answers.”

“I can’t promise any,” said Catra bluntly. “I’ve never gotten answers myself.”

“The chance is all I want.” The girl’s voice was soft, but Catra could sense a quiet resolve underlying it.

She nodded. “Okay then. A chance, we can do.”

* * *

It was the morning, and Catra stretched out as she woke from her…she hated to use the word…catnap. They had _finally_ reached Thaymor, and Bow had immediately conscripted her into this mad plan to introduce their prisoner, who Catra had learned was named Adora, to things like parties and fresh air. The girl seemed willing to play along with them, at least, so Catra had taken the opportunity to recharge a bit, coming up into consciousness only for brief moments: the ridiculously dorky display of the girl meeting her first horse, for example. She had no idea how Bow was still so fresh; did he just not need sleep? (Or at least not, like, ten hours a day?)

As she blinked the fog from her eyes, Bow appeared in her line of sight, his face drawn. “The Horde’s coming.”

Suddenly, Catra was fully awake. “Adora?”

“She’s gone to try and talk to them – apparently they told her Thaymor was a fortress, and she wants to tell them their intel was wrong.”

A bitter chuckle clawed its way free of Catra’s chest, and she said, “She’s ditched us and gone back to them.”

“I don’t think she has, Catra. I know you don’t like her, but I think she wants to do what’s right – the Horde just lied to her about what that was.”

Catra’s scowl warred with Bow’s look of deep sincerity for a few seconds, before she sighed heavily. “All right. Let’s assume that she’s on the level. I still don’t think talking it out is going to work.”

“Me neither,” said Bow grimly. “Looks like it’s just us against an entire company of tanks.”

“I’ll take half, you take half?” said Catra, her tone light, her grin wicked, both completely forced. This was bad. This was really bad. Thaymor was worryingly close to Brightmoon, Bow’s quiver was half-empty after the night’s misadventures, and a company was actually quite a lot of tanks. Probably too many tanks.

* * *

Catra’s heart hammered in her chest as she half-carried, half-dragged Adora out of the line of fire. When she’d seen the Horde officer with the inexplicable pink buzzcut standing over Adora’s unconscious form, she’d reacted instinctively: a fistful of sand in the soldier’s eyes, a claw slash at her face, and then Catra had grabbed the slumped form of Adora and hurried her away from the battle lines. She’d given away her presence without accomplishing much, and she’d probably only mildly annoyed the Horde officer, even given that Bow had caught her with a net arrow, so not the best use of her time.

Worse than that, she supposed that impulsively dashing out to save Adora meant she was beginning to like her. Catra didn’t _begin to like_ people, especially not after one night. Even Bow, one of the friendliest and most patient people alive (honestly, being her friend, he kind of had to be), had needed to spend several weeks at Brightmoon before his name had stopped being “dork.”

She patted Adora gently on the cheek. “Hey. Hey! Snap out of it!” As the girl’s eyes fluttered open, Catra continued, “Look. I know I’ve been a jerk to you all night. I was jealous, okay? I spent six years praying, every night, that a messenger would arrive and I’d turn out to have secretly been a princess all along or something. It never happened. Obviously. So I’m sorry I took that out on you.” She pressed the sword into the other girl’s hands. “If I’d given this to you earlier, it could’ve saved us a ton of time and hassle. If you do that thing now and help us save Thaymor, I promise I’ll be a lot less of a jerk to you in future. Deal?”

It was only Catra’s keen ears that let her hear Adora over the din of gunfire. She was saying, “Deal.”

Another dawn flared in the heart of the village.

* * *

Glimmer scowled and rubbed the scratches on her cheek as the scraps of the Horde forces withdrew. Shadow Weaver was going to be furious. A full tank company against a small town – the fortress had apparently been an exaggeration – and they’d lost. Badly. She was lucky to still _have_ tanks.

And at the end there…

She couldn’t have seen the eight-foot goddess of war that had routed them turn into Adora, because that was absurd. Adora was just confused. She hadn’t turned into a princess or anything. She’d just…decided not to come back to the Horde. Or to her.

Should she have taken that offer? Adora was a skilled warrior, but…well, she needed someone to look out for her. She couldn’t read a room, she couldn’t deal with a change in routine, she could get suckered by _anything_ – as today had proved. She was definitely going to have a rough few days, put it that way…

No. Taking the offer would have been the wrong call. If she’d gone along, she would have reinforced whatever manipulation these rebels had pulled. She’d need to wait, let Adora see the truth for herself. She could try and help her find it next time they met, but just tagging along? Bad idea.

_Besides_, said a little voice inside her, _without Adora, Shadow Weaver might shut up for a few minutes about how you need to do better than her._

* * *

The Brightmoon throne room hadn’t lived up to the kingdom’s name in more than a decade and a half. While the large windows definitely allowed in plenty of light, it was hung with mourning banners, the black fabric faded to a dark grey. It had originally been a tribute to the lost king, but the banners remained aloft as a gesture of solidarity with all those who had lost loved ones to the Horde’s depredations, and other banners had been added over the years – those paying tribute to the king, adorned in silver thread with the Brightmoon crescent and Guild starburst, had been joined by the symbols of Dryl, Plumeria, Salineas, and Elberon, and the largest of the banners, looming over the throne like vast grey-black swords, bore the crests of the devastated kingdom of Riluth and the long-conquered kingdom of the scorpions.

It had been three hours since Adora had been left unattended in the guest room and vanished, and it felt like two of those hours had been spent listening to Angella’s diatribe about how irresponsible it was for them to have brought a Horde soldier into the area. Catra’s foot was beginning to fall asleep.

As Angella was getting started on Why That Was Dumb, Chapter 7, Subsection IV, Part C-2, the door to the throne room burst open, and a golden light flooded the hall. Catra flinched as her eyes adjusted to the light. Then the corners of her mouth quirked upwards; there was only one likely source for _that_ light.

“She-Ra,” murmured Angella, her expression dazed.

“Your Majesty,” said Adora, kneeling, “I've come to pledge myself to the Rebellion. But first, there's something you should know.” The glow died, leaving her in the middle of the room, her Horde uniform on full display. A murmur ran through the crowd.

“I know you have no reason to trust me,” continued Adora, “but I've seen the atrocities the Horde has committed against the people of Etheria, and I'm ready to stop them. I know I can help the Rebellion turn the tide of the war.”

Quietly, Angella said, “I know the legend of the warrior the First Ones called She-Ra. They said she would return in the hour of our greatest need to bring balance. I never thought she was anything more than a myth. Yet you're here now. And in the uniform of a Horde soldier.” Her eyes narrowed. “You would stand with us against those you once served?”

“Yes,” said Adora, her expression firm, unyielding.

“Catra, you would take responsibility for her?”

“Sure, I guess,” Catra said with a smirk. “As long as I don’t have to take responsibility for me.”

Angella shot her a disapproving look, then turned back to Adora. “Then rise. The Rebellion accepts your allegiance, She-Ra, Princess of Power.”

As Adora stood, facing the queen, her eyes shifted upwards, flicking past Angella’s shoulder and wing to the view outside the window – the opalescent shape of the Moonstone, shimmering atop its lonely pillar. Her sword and her jaw dropped simultaneously; the blade rang as it struck the ground. “Wait…what’s that?”

“_That_ is the Moonstone,” said Angella, her voice cold. “You may consider yourself under orders not to go near it until such time as I deem it acceptable.”

“I’m sorry, your Majesty. It’s just…” Adora sighed. “My best friend in the Horde…she used to have dreams about a glowing stone. I was only in the Whispering Woods to begin with because Glimmer wanted to figure out-”

Even Catra, whose speed was a legend among the guards, didn’t see Angella move. The queen’s hands closed on Adora’s shoulders, their faces mere inches apart, and Catra could tell from Adora’s flinch that the grip wasn’t particularly gentle.

_“What did you say her name was?”_

“G-Glimmer, your Majesty-”

Angella seemingly realised what she was doing, and released her grip, visibly struggling to recover her composure. “If you see her again, you are to bring her to me. Alive and unharmed. Do you understand?”

“Of course, your Majesty.”

* * *

Angella sat at the desk in her chambers, the door locked. Her face was icily calm, but her ragged breathing and clenched fists betrayed the emotions spiralling underneath.

“So,” said Catra from behind her, “who is this Glimmer person?”

In a tone that could have cut glass, Angella said, “That’s not your concern, Catra.”

“If I’m going to be looking after Adora on missions? It sure as heck is my concern.” Catra stuck out her jaw pugnaciously. “Abducting a specific Horde officer isn’t going to be easy. We only got away with Adora because she was out in the woods alone at night. Why this particular one?”

The two locked eyes, and after a few moments, Angella sighed and bowed her head. “My daughter.” Not seeing Catra’s expression, she continued, “She’s my daughter.”

All Catra could manage was an, “…Oh.”

When Angella raised her head again, Catra was gone.

* * *

Outside, on a lonely rooftop, Catra seethed, her fists clenched so tightly that her claws dug into her palms.

So that was it. Why Angella had never truly seen her as family, instead keeping her distance. It wasn’t the space between them she’d never known how to bridge; it’s that there was already someone standing in that space.

Someone who still wore the uniform of a Horde officer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someday I will create a meaningfully sized AU fic that doesn't open with me retelling _The Sword_ for 4000 words.
> 
> Today is not that day.
> 
> Tomorrow isn't looking good either.


	2. Warriors of Brightmoon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adora travels to the Crystal Castle in order to restore her memories.

Catra’s tail twitched unhappily as she met Adora’s cloudy gaze. It didn’t seem to impair the girl’s vision, but it was a vivid reminder of how badly she had screwed up during the Horde attack on Dryl. They’d won the battle, at least…but if they couldn’t get back Adora’s memories, they could still lose the war.

“You sure you don’t want us to watch your back, bright-eyes?” she said, forcing a smile. “The Whispering Woods aren’t the safest, and I seem to recall there were a bunch of spiders in the ruin last time we went there.”

“Guys.” Adora’s voice was firm. “I need you to stay here. The beacon is dangerous to everyone but She-Ra, remember? That’s one of the few things I got to keep.” Her lips quirked into a crooked smile. “I can make new memories of us being friends easier than I can make new friends.”

Catra’s eyes narrowed. “That’s not all, though, is it?”

Adora looked down and said, “No.” She took a deep breath. “I know I can trust you guys…but I don’t _feel_ like I can trust you guys, because I don’t have those memories back yet, and I don’t want to screw up or get one of you hurt because some Horde instinct I don’t need any more is misfiring and treating you like enemies.”

“I knew it!” Catra’s tail lashed back and forth. “You’re mad that I didn’t get there in time!”

“Catra, no.” Adora looked her straight in the eyes. “I only have memories of my time here _at all_ because you stopped Shadow Weaver. I’m grateful for that. Really. But I have to do this alone. Keep Brightmoon safe until I get back, OK?”

The door creaked shut, and she was gone.

* * *

After a few minutes, Catra sat up.

“Okay!” The magicat’s words were full of a confidence she absolutely did not feel. “I’m officially calling an end to sitting here and moping while she’s busy. In my official position as Queen Angella’s ward, I’m decreeing that we’re going to go and do something fun until she gets back. Let’s see, Mermista is busy in Salineas, Perfuma is…Perfuma. I guess Entrapta’s here…”

Bow gave her a Look. “Perfuma’s a really nice person, Catra.”

“Did I say she wasn’t? Look, I know you guys get along really well, but this isn’t a herbal-tea-and-meditation sort of problem…at least not for me. Look at me, I’m not even gonna be able to sit still, and I’m pretty sure it wouldn’t be easy meditating with me pacing in the background.” Bow had to admit she had a point; Catra was so full of nervous energy she was beginning to vibrate. “I say we should do something energetic. Rock climbing in the mountains, maybe. Sparring. A ramble in the Whispering Woods.” She grinned wickedly. “Pestering Entrapta to build us something cool. That kind of thing.”

Rubbing his chin, Bow said, “Do you remember building those little cairns in the mountains – back when we were, uh, we’d have been fifteen?”

“Yeah. That was a fun day.” Catra shivered. “Up until it rained, anyway. You wanna go see if they’re still there?”

“You read my mind.”

* * *

An hour and one She-Ra transformation later, Adora was beginning to think that going to a crumbling ruin in the middle of a haunted forest in order to pry a cure for magic-induced brain damage out of a malfunctioning computer might not have been the best idea of all time.

She was wracking her brain for a new way to ask how to make the sword heal when she heard a noise behind her. Instinctively, she scythed the blade downwards like the path of a thunderbolt, loosing a blast of energy from its tip –

“Adora, what the hell?!”

“Glimmer?”

It felt like Adora’s brain convulsed, for just a moment. It was like the memories she had with Glimmer, their time together in the Fright Zone, were picking a fight with other memories, fragmentary ones: the purple light of magic, the sting of impacts on her body.

In the time it took Adora to adjust, her friend – or former friend, she couldn’t tell right now – had crossed the room. In a single flowing motion, Glimmer grabbed Adora by the jacket and slammed her into the wall.

“You told me that you saw the stone from my dreams in Brightmoon,” she snarled, her eyes as cold and hard as amethysts. “I want an explanation! How do I remember a stone in Brightmoon when I’ve never been there?”

“I don’t know,” said Adora, quietly.

“What do you mean, you don’t know?!”

Adora’s gorge rose in response, and she snapped, “Hey, remember when you dragged me in front of Shadow Weaver and she tried to wipe my memories? _Because I don’t. _I had to piece that one together! So if you want answers, you’re going to need to wait until I can remember what they are!”

Glimmer’s anger faded as quickly as it had appeared. “She really did a number on your head, didn’t she?”

Red lights began to go on, and a female voice droned, “Unauthorised access detected.”

“That’s…bad, right?” said Glimmer.

“It’s bad, yeah. I think I remember that there are spiders?”

* * *

There were spiders.

“Didn’t that hologram say you were an administrator?” Glimmer fired a magical blast that split the First One metal of an approaching spider. “Go in there and set spiders to off!”

“I don’t think it works that way,” said Adora grimly. “It sees you as a threat, and I’m pretty sure that as long as I’m defending you, it’ll see me as a threat too-”

“Then stop!” yelled Glimmer. “You always do this! No wonder I never got any respect, no wonder Shadow Weaver still doesn’t think I’m ready! To everyone in the Fright Zone, I’m just the one with the pink hair who hid behind _you_ all the time.”

“I…I just-”

Glimmer’s eyes were hard, and her voice was cold. “Save it, Adora. Let’s just get this over with.”

* * *

“This can’t be real,” Adora said, studying the panorama before them. It appeared to be a dormitory in the Fright Zone, and from the displays, it was quite late in the evening.

Glimmer touched the ground, and purple light flared as she formed a spell circle. “There’s magic in it, but it’s not an illusion spell. Must be some kind of First One trick.”

“Glimmer!” said a child’s voice to their left. “How was your magic lesson?”

The two turned to see a much younger Adora and Glimmer. Adora was halfway through getting changed into her Horde-mandated sleeping uniform; Glimmer was a little out of breath, as if she’d had to sprint to get there before curfew.

“Gimme a second.” The young Glimmer took a few deep breaths. “Okay. It was really hard. I don’t think I figured out the spell quickly enough to make her happy.”

“I don’t think this is working,” said the more grown-up Glimmer. “Shadow Weaver was only going to erase your memories of the Rebellion. This should have been off limits.”

Staring dully at the scene, Adora said, “I don’t remember this.”

The young Adora was saying, “I wish I could do magic.”

“Why?” The young Glimmer glared at the young Adora, just as the other Glimmer glared at the other Adora. “You already do better in drills than me. Now you need to be better than me at something else, too?”

“I just mean that we could go to Shadow Weaver’s lessons together, help each other figure it out! Then it wouldn’t be so bad, right?”

“…I guess,” said Glimmer, pulling her own sleeping uniform out of a locker and starting to put it on. “But it’s still nice having something nobody else can do, you know?”

The overhead lights dimmed and went out, leaving only the faint glow of electronics illuminating the room.

“Goodnight, Glimmer.”

“…G’night, Adora.”

“You _forgot_ that?!” said the real Glimmer. “My first magic lesson, one of the most important things to happen to me, and you forgot it?!”

“I’ve forgotten a lot of things over the last week or so!”

“Oh, no, you are _not_ blaming Shadow Weaver for this-”

A moonbeam split the darkness, and Adora’s voice said, “Catra?”

“Yeah?”

As Adora’s eyes adjusted, she saw herself in her bed at Brightmoon, Bow lying on a mattress on the floor over to one side, and by a process of elimination, Catra had to be somewhere in that heap of pillows.

_Plumeria_, said her memory, and the outline began to resurface, pushing through the misty haze left by Shadow Weaver’s magic. She’d had trouble sleeping, and the others had thrown her a sleepover.

“I’ve been wondering…how did you become Angella’s ward? I haven’t seen anyone else like you in Brightmoon.”

A strangled grunt issued from Bow’s mattress, and Adora immediately realised she’d probably stepped over some line-

“No, you know what? It’s okay.” Catra sounded tense, but she was obviously trying to control it. “Adora has to learn sometime, and I’d rather she heard it from me than going behind my back and asking you or Angella. Okay. Ever heard of Riluth?”

“Not much, and I don’t trust what I did hear.”

“That would have been in the Horde? Good instincts.” The amusement in Catra’s voice sounded forced. “Something bad went down in Brightmoon, something nobody wants to talk about. Angella sent riders to warn the other kingdoms, in case it happened there too; the one sent to Riluth found it in ruins, all the people gone…except for one.”

“You?”

“Me, yeah. I was just a kit, hidden somewhere by parents who either never got the chance to come back and save me, or couldn’t be bothered. The messenger – her name was Elaysia – heard me crying somehow, brought me back here, and Angella took me in. Elaysia checked in on me whenever she got back from her missions…until she didn’t get back from one, when I was seven.”

In a hollow voice, Adora said, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. You wouldn’t have been any older than I was; there’s nothing you could have done. If you wanna be anything about this, be angry that the Horde did it and nobody stopped them.”

Glimmer shot the real Adora a dirty look. “Plumeria…you hadn’t even been gone a month by then. You forgot about me that quickly?”

“I never _forgot_ you, Glimmer. You chose not to come with me. Even after Shadow Weaver, I remember that much.”

“I shouldn’t have to choose between you and the chance I _deserve-_”

“And I shouldn’t have had to choose between you and doing what’s right, so I guess we’re both out of luck!”

The walls began to take on a dull red glow. There was no sign of the bedroom in Brightmoon, nor its occupants.

“Why are you even here, Glimmer? Shadow Weaver definitely didn’t tell you to come here-”

“I came here because I wanted answers!” Glimmer’s voice was just below a shout. “I was trying to find my way through the woods to make sure you were telling the truth, when I saw you and followed! Do you know what it’s like to have part of a mystery, and no-one will tell you the next clue?”

“_Yes!_ You think I know why the sword works for me, but nobody else? You think I know where _I_ came from? Even if I _had_ found any answers, it’s not like I’d be able to remember them now, so thanks for that!”

As Glimmer struggled to find words, the scuttling of metallic claws began to echo through the complex.

She found some words as they began to run.

“Oh, come on, _not this again…_”

* * *

As the skittering sounds faded into the distance, the two women turned a corner to find another expanse of dirty metal – another section of the Fright Zone. Glimmer concentrated. “Still no active spells.”

A door in the metal slid open with a hissing, grinding sound.

“After you?” said Adora, and Glimmer shot her a dirty look.

Inside the room, metal struck metal as the cadets sparred. Adora winced a little bit to see herself among them; her early teens had been…awkward, and being reminded of her first, fumbling steps toward adulthood wasn’t the most pleasant experience.

Still, at least this appeared to be combat training, not, for example, that one embarrassing incident with Octavia in the mess room. For some reason, both Shadow Weaver and normal entropy had left _that_ one entirely intact; if anything, they’d sharpened it.

The younger Adora ducked under Kyle’s fumbling attack, leaving him wide open. A swift lunge put him down, and Adora then stepped back, narrowly avoiding a swing at her head from Lonnie.

Over Lonnie’s shoulder, she could see Glimmer was up against Rogelio. That wasn’t a good matchup for Glimmer; she wasn’t allowed to use magic in these fights, and Rogelio was already a good six feet at the shoulder.

Lonnie’s staff whistled past her head, and Adora refocused. Let’s see, Lonnie tended to over-emphasise her arms, so she went low, sweeping the other girl’s legs out from under her. A staff clattered against the ground as Lonnie dropped, and Adora delivered a blunt jab that sent Lonnie out of the fight too.

Now for Rogelio. The staff gave her enough reach to take a swing at Rogelio’s shoulder, so she did, and he hissed – more in surprise than pain, she hoped. He thrust an elbow backwards, forcing her to sidestep, before swinging his weapon in a brutal horizontal arc. Glimmer’s desperate block protected that all-important chest piece, but the sheer force knocked her stumbling.

Rogelio’s staff scythed down at Adora; the big guy was using it more like a sword than anything else. Adora frantically dodged out of the way, just slightly too slow – catching a glancing blow to the shoulder that still hurt like blazes. Still, it wasn’t too severe: Rogelio also tended to overextend. She feinted at his right, then, when he launched his counterattack, sidestepped and thrust, striking his chest piece and taking him out of the fight.

The big guy dropped, and she sighed in relief for a moment-

-only to see Glimmer’s staff approaching her, its tip whistling as it carved a path through the air. She barely brought her own staff up in time to block, then passed up a chance to counterattack in order to readjust her grip.

Glimmer went on the offensive, striking furiously, and Adora seized her opportunity. If she did _this_, then _this_…

Glimmer’s staff clattered to the ground, and a swift strike left Adora the winner.

Adora – the real Adora, not the memory version – shook her head. This thing wasn’t just getting stuff out of her head; it was feeding it back in. She’d felt half of that, and she suspected Glimmer had too; she half-expected to have a bruise on her shoulder, even though she had taken the injury five years ago.

“Nicely done, Adora,” said the drill sergeant, making some notes on his clipboard. “Good tactics. Lord Hordak will be informed of your progress.” He turned to the others. “Everyone else, take a two-minute breather, then give me five laps of the training area.”

Glimmer groaned. “Shadow Weaver’s gonna _kill me_ if I’m late for magic training again…especially since I lost.”

“I thought you did great,” said Adora. “If you’d kept a better grip on your staff, you’d have beaten me easily.”

“Yeah, but Shadow Weaver’s the one I need to impress.” Glimmer hurled a formless blast of raw magic at the wall – not a shaped spell, just a pulse of pure emotion given form. “It’s not fair! I have to do everything you do, plus learn magic, and if I’m not the best at all of it…” She shuddered. “I have to be the best. It’s the only thing she’ll accept.”

“Glimmer-” Adora wasn’t sure whether it was her saying it, her younger version, or both. She shook her head as fragments of memory surfaced: other battles with Glimmer. Ones that felt much more serious. A strike from a stun prod in Thaymor. Another impact on her shoulder, this time in…she could smell flowers, so probably Plumeria. A volley of spells outside Dryl…whatever had happened in Dryl, Glimmer had definitely been involved.

Her vision blurred as the scene shifted. Now, instead of the Fright Zone, it was the Brightmoon war room, a map open on the table. Angella, herself, Bow, Catra, Mermista and Perfuma were gathered around the edges, and little figures of Horde soldiers, robots and tanks were arranged into two columns: one approaching over the higher mountains to the north, the other via a mountain pass located in the south.

Glimmer studied the map suspiciously. “Dryl. This must be only a few weeks old.”

“This doesn’t make sense,” said the Catra in the vision. “The Horde wouldn’t send tanks over the mountains – unless they wanted them to arrive next year, anyway. The terrain’s too rough, and their flight ceilings are too low. Are these tracker-pad readings, or visually confirmed?”

“Probably tracker-pads,” said Angella, her voice thoughtful.

Bow rubbed his chin. “I wonder if you could modify a skiff to show up as a tank on sensors.”

“They _do_ use a lot of parts in common,” added the vision’s version of Adora, “so I wouldn’t rule it out. I don’t know how much work it would take, though; I was being trained for command, not engineering.”

“Thought so,” said Catra, a faint purr audible in her voice. “If those _are _skiffs, we shouldn’t commit too much to that flank: they’ll almost certainly break off and move around to reinforce the other column, the one coming through Polarity Pass. If we bought the ruse and split our forces too evenly, they’d be able to overwhelm the defences at the mouth of the pass and strike into Dryl itself, coming up behind our other flank.”

Glimmer made a wordless noise of frustration. “I wasted three days and listened to four hours of technical jargon working on that plan, and you guys figured it out instantly. No wonder Hordak finds you so annoying.”

“Excellent, Catra,” said Angella, a hint of pride visible in her lilac eyes, and Adora couldn’t help but notice that Catra’s tail was quivering happily. It was weird seeing her abrasive, independent friend turn into an almost literal teacher’s pet in these situations. “I’ll send some scouts to visually confirm whether the mountain formation has any tanks before we commit our forces. Perhaps the general should have a word with them about relying too heavily on tracker-pads.”

“Your friend’s not bad at this,” admitted Glimmer grudgingly. “If we hadn’t spent some time sneaking robots through the mountains under cover of darkness, that might have worked.”

“I remember now,” said Adora distantly. And she did. She’d been fighting on the left flank of the Polarity Pass battleground, and had been forced to race over to the western side of the castle to counter a surprise attack by a wall of Horde robots.

_We don’t have to fight, Glimmer! The stone in your dreams – I’ve seen it! It’s at Brightmoon-_

But Glimmer had hit her with a volley of spells and knocked her out, and as the darkness had taken her, she’d seen Catra, coming to her rescue, like she had in Thaymor – but being dragged down by the bots’ sheer weight of numbers. And then she’d been in the Fright Zone, and Shadow Weaver had waged war on her memory…

* * *

“I hope losing at Dryl didn’t cause you too much trouble,” Adora said softly.

“We didn’t lose.” There was no emotion in Glimmer’s voice. “The mission was to capture you and the other two, not to conquer Dryl. I took you down, and your magicat _friend_…” There was definitely a hint of anger on that word. “…tried to rescue you, so we grabbed her too.”

“Hordak was willing to sacrifice an entire company of tanks to take me out?”

Glimmer glared at her. “Don’t go thinking you’re important enough to get Hordak’s attention! This was Shadow Weaver’s idea. When you got out…” Glimmer shuddered. “It wasn’t pretty. Luckily for me, Hordak was even more annoyed with Shadow Weaver for disobeying orders.”

“I’m sorry that my escape caused you problems-”

Glimmer rounded on Adora, her temper flaring. “Escape? Do you even know how you got free?”  
Adora’s forehead wrinkled. “Catra overpowered a guard, ambushed Shadow Weaver and let me out. Why wouldn’t I remember that part?”

“And she was only able to do that because _I let her_.” Glimmer’s voice was a low hiss. “I assigned _Kyle _to escort her to a different cell. _Anyone_ could have escaped.”

Adora grabbed a helpful question from the gathering swarm. “_Why? _You captured me to begin with!”

“I changed my mind, obviously!”

“Oh yeah, _obviously!_” Adora’s hands were beginning to shake with anger. “I don’t need all my memories to know that you’re up to something, Glimmer. I’m going to find out what-”

“You know what? Fine!” Glimmer’s voice escalated to a shout. “You want to know why I changed my mind? I’m sick of competing with you, Adora! I’m sick of nothing I do ever being good enough, I’m sick of Shadow Weaver looking over my shoulder all the time, I’m sick of all of it!” Adora flinched instinctively as Glimmer hurled a blast of magic, but it wasn’t aimed at her – it left cracks in the crystalline walls. “Everyone wants me to be the thing that makes _them_ look special, and I’m tired of all of it.”

“I-”

“Go home, Adora.” Glimmer no longer sounded angry; just tired. “Just…leave me. You’ve already done it more than once.”

“Glimmer-”

But Glimmer was already gone.

Adora stood there for a moment, her jaw slack, and then the penny dropped.

Purple eyes. Pink-purple hair. The Moonstone. Something bad that happened in Brightmoon when Catra had been just a kit…and by extension Bow, Glimmer and herself had been babies.

Almost as if the memory had been deliberately waiting until it was too late, she heard Catra’s voice, over the birdsong she would forever associate with Brightmoon, saying _Angella told me why she wants your friend…_

“Oh no.”

* * *

“Glimmer, my child, where have you been?” Shadow Weaver’s voice, the auditory equivalent of some thick, viscous poison, had always put Glimmer a little bit on edge, and with the witch’s emotions still volatile after Adora’s escape, that had only gotten worse. “I had hoped to introduce you to a new spell, but if you still cannot arrive to your lessons on time…”

Still, Glimmer was going to have to pull the trigger sooner or later. “Who am I?” she demanded, bracing her staff in both hands.

“Why, you are Glimmer, first true sorceress of the Horde. I hope whatever misadventure delayed you did not damage your mind; it will be a formidable weapon when you finally develop some discipline-”

“I’m not interested in playing games, Shadow Weaver!” A purple aura began to gather at the tip of her staff. “I’m going to ask you again. _Who. Am. I._”

Shadow Weaver’s eyes narrowed behind her mask. “…Very well, child. Your father was a student of mine, from my days at Mystacor – an extremely talented mage. With his…loss, I could not permit your likely talents to be squandered by the fools at Brightmoon. So I…took steps to ensure that your potential was properly nurtured. For which you have repaid me with sloth and impertinence, I might add.”

“Maybe you weren’t nurturing my potential properly,” said Glimmer tartly. “Should have thought of that first, huh?”

“Insolent child!” The darkness seething behind Shadow Weaver roiled as the witch drew herself up to her full height, and its tendrils began lashing at Glimmer like the arms of a kraken. “I have given you every opportunity to excel, to reach the heights you are capable of, and this is how you repay me?”

“LIAR!” Glimmer spat. “You _never_ wanted to help me. All you ever wanted was control! You’ve been tearing me down, smothering me at every turn! Did you _ever_ plan to train an army of sorcerers for the Horde – or would that have been too much competition? One sorceress and her _apprentice_ – that’s the ideal for you, because nobody cares about the apprentice! But an army? That’s too many for you, isn’t it? Too many for you to crush back into submission when they start to exceed you.”

“Exceed me? _Hardly_. You have grown arrogant, child. It seems you need a reminder of your true place.” Red shadows coiled around Glimmer, lightning crackling in their depths, as Shadow Weaver drew on the Black Garnet. She didn’t use this particular trick often…but Glimmer knew, from grim experience, how much it hurt. How long the scars could linger.

Luckily, this time, she’d prepared for it.

A magical shockwave burst from Glimmer’s staff, and the shadows withdrew, as if the shock of Glimmer’s resistance had taken the fight out of them. “I know my true place, witch. And it’s not on your trophy stand.”

Glimmer dived aside, narrowly avoiding Shadow Weaver’s force bolt, and fired her own. Horde training told her to aim for centre mass; experience with Shadow Weaver told her there was a better target.

Glimmer’s retaliation cut through Shadow Weaver’s wards as if they weren’t there, striking the elder in the face with the force of the younger mage’s accumulated rage. She turned away as Shadow Weaver screamed, an almost animal sound, pain and loss blurring into each other like blood and water.

She gestured to Force Captain Scorpia, who was waiting at the door. “Throw Shadow Weaver in a cage and tell Hordak he doesn’t need to worry about her treachery again. She’s been sabotaging her projects for years, and unless she can figure out how to do that from a cell, that’s over now.” Glimmer cracked her knuckles. “She’s been letting her feet rust in place for years. This place needs to be shaken up.”

* * *

The door creaked open, and Catra sat bolt upright. She and Bow had been trying out a meditation thing he’d gotten from Perfuma…okay, that was a lie. Bow had been trying out a meditation thing. Catra had been sleeping. She was quite good at it, especially after a long day of scouting out the mountain behind Brightmoon.

On the bright side, they’d verified that some of the cairns they’d built were still there after a good three years. That had to be worth something, right? Something they’d built, something she’d had a hand in, had lasted three years in the wind, rain and everything else, and it wasn’t even held together with mortar.

Adora stepped through the door, and Catra noticed that the girl’s eyes were no longer cloudy, but as bright and beautiful as the sky at noon.

That seemed promising, so Catra poked Bow with a claw. “Hey, sleepyhead. Look who’s back.” She grinned. “Brain doing okay?”

Adora’s answer was to grab the two of them in a bear hug. Well, that confirmed she’d recovered a lot, anyway. She’d been really touch-averse over the past week – which was understandable enough, under the circumstances, but really drove home how much she’d lost.

She had it back now, at least. So much of it back that Catra was worried it might have left a bruise. “Okay, okay, bright-eyes! Let me breathe, okay?”

Sheepishly, Adora released her grip. “Sorry. I just…I got nearly everything back, and I…”

Bow patted her arm gently. “It’s okay, Adora. Really. It’s good to have you back. Everything went to plan, then.”

“Almost,” Adora said dully. “Glimmer was there. We…argued.” Her gaze flicked downwards. “It went really badly.”

Catra glared at her, eyes as hard as gemstones. “So did you tell her?”

“No.” She flinched at Catra’s scowl. “I didn’t _remember_, Catra! That was the entire problem! I didn’t remember what I had to tell her until she’d already left!”

Catra let out a low groan and slashed at the curtains. Great. Another perfect opportunity to get the girl to Angella, wasted-

Bow caught her arm. “Come on, Catra. We’ll get another shot.”

Catra breathed out, venting what she could of her anger. “Yeah. You’re right. We’ll get her eventually.” She eyed Adora up and down. “You look like you’ve been through a wringer. Go get some sleep, bright-eyes; I can pile up some cushions if you want some company.”

“I’d like that. Thanks.” She paused at the door and turned around. “Oh, by the way, Catra…I want to thank you properly. For everything. You put so much faith in me when I was new here.”

“Oh, no problem,” Catra said, waving a hand dismissively. “I mean, I’m not gonna turn down some recognition, but…what brought this on?”

“Getting my memories back, I noticed…you’re usually so stiff around Angella. You only make jokes around her when you’re _really_ confident in whatever you’re doing. And do you remember when she accepted my loyalty? You said that you’d take responsibility for me…”

“…As long as I didn’t have to take any for myself, yeah.” Catra grinned. “I figured that after you threw down with a tank company for people you barely knew, you were probably going to be reliable. Thanks for proving me right, though; that could have been really embarrassing.”

“Any time,” Adora said, smiling.

* * *

_Later_

Glimmer opened her eyes blearily and stared at the ceiling. It looked…wrong, somehow. Instead of the Fright Zone’s faintly corroded metal, this was brightly painted and detailed.

Also, her head hurt. A lot.

She vaguely recalled...Thaymor, that was it. She'd been inspecting the defences at the Thaymor occupation when a Rebellion strike force had emerged from the forest. She'd fought, hard, but one of Adora's new friends had managed to get past her attacks and bring her down. Presumably, she'd been taken prisoner while she was unconscious.

Voices argued in the distance. One was familiar, the other…also familiar, but in a weird way. Like a lullaby you half-remembered from childhood.

“-specifically instructed you to bring her in unharmed!”

“Look, I had to choose: bring her in unconscious or end up back in a Fright Zone prison. I went with the best of a bad set of options.”

The first speaker made a hissing noise. “Very well, Catra. Let us hope she recovers swiftly.”

The door swung open, and a figure swept in-

As Glimmer tried to surge to her feet, she realised her wrists and ankles were tied. The ropes weren’t _tight_, at least not uncomfortably so, and she was able to sit up, but she was definitely tied down, and from the looks of it, she didn’t have enough freedom of motion to do much.

That was probably wise, because her captor…A hated figure. The leader of the accursed resistance.

Queen Angella.

The queen studied Glimmer, her expression unreadable. “I apologise for confining you, Glimmer. I need to speak to you-”

“Get to the point,” Glimmer snapped. “Hordak will be furious to learn that you’ve abducted one of his Force Captains.”

“…You don’t remember me, then,” said the queen, an undertone of sadness obvious in her voice.

This absolutely was not going according to Glimmer’s script. “I remember you perfectly,” said Glimmer, her voice like iron. “You’re the leader of the rebellion.”

“I am,” said Angella simply. “I am also your mother.”

What.

In the moments it took Glimmer to process this, the queen bent down and enfolded Glimmer in her arms, wings meeting behind her like the jaws of a trap, sealing the Force Captain in a shimmering dome of light.

“I should have come for you,” said Angella in Glimmer’s ear, her voice pained. “I should have broken open the Fright Zone and brought Hordak’s tower down around his ears rather than allow them to hold you for even one day. I should have torn the witch limb from limb for daring to lay a hand on you.”

As the queen loosened her grip, Glimmer pulled away. “What do you want from me? You say you’re my mother – well, I guess. But I don’t know you. I’m not part of your family. Do you plan to keep me prisoner until you feel better? That doesn’t sound like _noble_ and _heroic_ Brightmoon.”

Angella thought for a moment, a single tear trickling down her cheek. “One month.” Noting Glimmer’s obvious puzzlement, she continued, “I will offer you a deal. Stay here for one month. Thirty days. Then, at the end of that time…if you wish to leave, we will offer no resistance. You may return to the Horde at your leisure.”

Now it was Glimmer’s turn to consider. On the one hand, thirty days was a long time. She’d likely lose some prestige, just for spending that much time here.

On the other hand, unmatched opportunities to gather intel on Brightmoon and then escape.

“Very well. Thirty days it is.” She tugged meaningfully at the ropes at her joints. “I hope I’m not spending the entire time with my arms tied.”

Angella’s hand glowed, and the ropes released. “Very well, I will have a guard show you to your room.”

* * *

“I’m putting you in charge of keeping Glimmer here,” said the queen, suddenly all business.

Catra’s jaw dropped. “Me? Wouldn’t the General-”

“The General doesn’t make a habit of sneaking out just to see if she can. You do.” Angella smiled a tight, controlled smile, but her voice was bleak. “I’m setting a thief to catch a thief, Catra, and you’re the best thief I’ve got. I want every escape route you use. Every door, every window, every rooftop. And I want them locked down. I know I can’t trust my daughter to willingly abide by the terms, at least not yet…but I know I can trust you to make sure she does.”

“Yes, your majesty,” said Catra, offering up possibly the most precise bow she would in her entire life. It contrasted weirdly with the chaos of her appearance after that fight with Glimmer; her normal ponytail was gone, leaving only an undistinguished mass of chaotic hair.

As Angella headed out, the magicat felt like her soul was convulsing, for just a moment. This could be her big chance to prove herself to Angella.

And all she had to do was keep her rival here.

In the place she could do the most damage. Both to Catra’s ambitions, and to Catra’s home and the closest thing she had to a family.

_Let her escape_, whispered something deep inside Catra. _You don’t want her here, she doesn’t want to be here. Angella will have to deal with it sooner or later._

It was tempting – so, so tempting – to listen to it.

But betraying Angella’s trust wasn’t going to get Catra what she wanted. All of these missions, greater and greater responsibilities – it had to be leading somewhere.

With great effort, Catra controlled her facial expression and headed off to find the General. Brightmoon didn’t have a prison…but for thirty days, it was going to have to be one.

* * *

Shadow Weaver, her twisted face concealed behind an improvised construction of fabric, slumped before the throne.

“It appears that your failure has compounded, Shadow Weaver,” came the deep, cold voice of the throne’s occupant. “Force Captain Glimmer was captured in the aftermath of the engagement at Thaymor.”

“My lord, if you had allowed me to recover Adora-”

“I do not care about your hopes for your wards, Shadow Weaver. But Force Captain Glimmer was proving a gifted administrator, and with her loss, operational efficiency has dropped to unacceptable levels. I have no suitable replacements…and so I must turn to you, despite your uninspired record.” Two baleful red dots studied her from above. “It is rare for those who have failed me to gain a second chance to impress, Shadow Weaver. Do not squander this opportunity.”

“Of…of course, my lord,” managed Shadow Weaver. “What do you require?”

Blood-red fangs glinted in the half-light. “Focus your efforts on eliminating the pathetic Rebellion and its forces. Note well that I said _eliminate_, Shadow Weaver; further fixation on Adora would be…unwise. You have already been punished once for your disobedience; I will not be so lenient next time.”

“But Lord Hordak-”

“Are you still here?”

As Shadow Weaver lurched down the corridor to the Black Garnet, her mind whirred, strategies being devised and rejected as quickly as her brain could process them. Glimmer’s ploy to attack Adora by splitting her off from her support structure had been a remarkable success, at least until it had gone sharply awry because of that same support structure…

* * *

“I wouldn’t bother, if I were you.”

Glimmer glared down from the window into the garden below and was greeted by two twinkling eyes – one blue, one yellow. Catra.

“As your princess, I am ordering you to stand down-”

“Oh, I’m _so sorry_,” said Catra with a smirk. “Don’t like the lodgings, huh? That’s weird, we tried to make sure you could get comfortable. Adora advised a hard bed, so we got you one to go alongside the usual one. Nobody to sleep near you, mind; we’re not going to let you take hostages.”

Glimmer shot her a look. “So you’re my jailer, then?”

“Yeah, pretty much.” She grinned evilly. “I know all the ways into and out of Brightmoon. I’m going to constantly be cutting off these routes of yours.” The blue eye flickered; Glimmer realised the magicat was winking. “Get used to seeing me, princess; we’re going to be the _best_ of friends.”

And with that, she disappeared – although Glimmer knew better than to assume this meant she was gone.

Thirty days of this to go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter is going to be its own thing, rather than reimagining an episode of the show to fit the altered setting, I promise (pun entirely intended).
> 
> Also, I've made some slight tweaks in response to feedback.


	3. Guardians of Brightmoon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Glimmer begins her thirty days in Brightmoon.

_Day one_

Glimmer’s hand met no resistance, and then she woke up. Running completely on autopilot, she had risen from her new bed at the crack of dawn and headed for lockers that were not, technically speaking, there.

Instead, there was a much larger wardrobe, full of…well, Glimmer wasn’t used to wearing anything but her uniform, perhaps with a few personal quirks like a short cape. Having to choose from this selection was like going from the most basic swimming drills to being dumped in the bay at Seaworthy. It was just a little absurd that the Rebellion was able to dig up so many clothes in _roughly_ her size at such short notice.

After a bit of a rummage, she managed to find a few things that both fit and suited her: long pants and a long-sleeved top in a reasonably close red to her Force Captain uniform…plus a short, silvery-blue half-cape that just kind of felt right.

There was a knock at the door.

“Glimmer? It’s Adora. I brought you some breakfast.”

Glimmer opened the door, glared bleary-eyed at Adora, roughly yanked the tray from her hands, and slammed the door again. She’d never liked mornings at the best of times, and apparently she liked mornings in unfamiliar territory even less. Hey, at least she was learning new things about herself.

She studied the tray with deep suspicion. There was what appeared to be _one_ Horde ration bar, presumably salvaged, a lone note of familiarity in a symphony of strangeness. What was this…strange light brown thing? What was this round green object?

She gingerly tried the strange tan thing, which turned out to have some sort of shell surrounding a lighter, softer interior. It…huh. It actually had a taste. Food wasn’t supposed to have a taste. Food was supposed to be a thing you took in to keep you going.

Weird.

It wasn’t _bad_, mind; just _weird_. It was sufficiently weird-but-not-bad that once she’d tried the round green object – it was tart, crisp and juicy – she finished off the ration bar first, to make sure that its non-taste wasn’t the last thing she took with her.

* * *

“This was your father,” said Angella, grief creeping over the edges of her voice like vines claiming a deserted house. “Micah. One of the greatest sorcerers of Mystacor. He…was killed in the last battle of the First Alliance.”

Glimmer stood in front of the mural, and she felt nothing. A mother she’d barely met, telling her about a father she’d _never_ met. She was listening, and she was taking mental notes, but as for – what? Grief? Loss? Nothing. She felt _nothing_. No sorrow at his death; no guilt for the insignia on her uniform; no void that she would never know him.

Well, okay, mostly nothing. She did have to admit that she was feeling a little bad for Angella – the queen was clearly hoping this would spark something in her, some trace of family connection, and somehow make up for the years that separated them, and it wasn’t even remotely working.

They stood there in silence for a little while, the awkwardness compounding, and then Adora arrived to usher her to the next stage of the tour. Never had Glimmer been so glad for Adora’s terminal inability to read a room.

* * *

_Day three_

Glimmer put down the tray. She’d learned that the tan thing was called “bread”, and the green thing was an “apple”; new foods and new terms were being added daily. Adora got really enthusiastic about telling her what various things were; from the sound of it, it had taken her quite a while to build up her own vocabulary of the world outside the Fright Zone, and there were still a few times she’d mutely looked to Bow for assistance.

Something about that didn’t sit well with Glimmer. The Horde was supposed to be arming them to conquer the world, and she’d received some of the best training it had to offer – a frustrating amount of it, in fact, given Shadow Weaver’s involvement. Yet it couldn’t be bothered to tell her that the big, four-legged things the Rebellion used to get around were called horses? It needed to make the existence of _apples_ some kind of secret?

She took a deep breath and forced that train of thought down. She needed to concentrate on analysing Brightmoon: its strengths, weaknesses, possible ways out, intel she could bring back to the Horde. But she also needed to keep up the appearance of at least _considering_ staying; take part in some activities with Adora’s new friends, at least pretend to listen to Angella’s lectures about Brightmoon and her family history, and so on.

A shadow in one corner of the room began to writhe. Moving slowly, sticking to the darkest patches, it began to follow her.

* * *

_Day four_

“Enjoying the view?” asked Bow with a smile.

Padded staves struck each other with a muted thud that echoed around the gardens. It was a nice day, so Adora and Glimmer had opted to spar – no magic, no She-Ra, and with the heavily padded weapons, no need to hold much back. It was warm enough that Adora had gone for a short-sleeved top; Glimmer was sticking with the long sleeves and pants.

Catra, sitting on a carefully sculpted mound to watch the session, casually threw one of the ruder hand signals she knew at Bow. “Look, it’s my job to keep an eye on Glimmer, so I’m keeping an eye on her.” With a smirk, she added, “Dressing Adora like that just means that I get to mix business and pleasure.”

“You’re sure you don’t want to…I dunno, ask her out?”

The magicat waved a hand dismissively. “I’m not _in love_ with her or anything, Bow. She’s my friend, and she looks good in short sleeves. That’s it.” She thought for a moment. “I’m not saying I’d say no to at least trying if _she_ asked, mind. I just don’t really want to initiate anything; I have enough on my plate!”

There was a thud as Adora swept Glimmer’s legs out from under her, effectively ending the fight. She reached down. “Are you all right, Glim? You don’t look so good.”

“I’m fine!” snapped Glimmer between ragged breaths, slapping away Adora’s hand. “I landed badly, that’s all.” She struggled to her feet. “So…what happens now?”

Bow looked at the two sweat-drenched princesses. “Well, generally, we find something else to do.”

“The loser isn’t…I mean, the winner doesn’t get…” Glimmer’s eyes narrowed, but Bow could tell it was confusion, rather than anger.

Adora sighed with relief. “Oh, I remember this one. Most things like this in Brightmoon don’t have rewards or punishments, Glim. You’re supposed to just be satisfied when you win or disappointed when you lose. Except for one card game they taught me, because I’m sure Catra cheated me out of thirty silver lunes last week.” Catra at least had the decency to look a little embarrassed. “Don’t worry about it; the change weirded me out, too.”

“I can understand that,” said Glimmer tartly. “What’s the point of winning if you don’t get anything out of it?”

* * *

_Day eight_

At least the food was good.

Glimmer was having to cling to that, because this “dinner” was possibly the most awkward experience of her life. Angella plainly had no idea what to say, and Glimmer couldn’t help but relate. Catra, across the table from her, was shooting her the evil eye in between mouthfuls, and Bow’s polite smile was beginning to look more like a rictus.

Adora, meanwhile, was focused on eating as much food as possible, as quickly as possible. Glimmer had to admit that her…friend, she guessed, probably had the right idea.

“So,” said Bow, in a tone like he was saying it at knifepoint, “did anyone do anything interesting today?”

“No,” said Glimmer and Catra in unison.

Silence returned.

* * *

_Day ten_

Bow held up the ball – a solid, leather-bound affair, durable but not particularly light. “So the rule is that you can’t move while holding it. You can lob it into the air and catch it, you can throw it to your teammate, you can bounce it off a wall, but if it’s in your hands, you can’t take so much as a step except to steady yourself.” He threw the ball to Adora. “Teams are me and Adora against Catra and Glimmer, so that one veteran is on each team. No magic, no other powers, and you get a point every time you get it into the other team’s goal. First team to five points wins.”

“I don’t see any goals,” said Glimmer, looking around.

Catra pointed. “The large pots at each end.”

“All right.” A grin slashed across Glimmer’s face. “I think I can do this.”

* * *

“Gotta admit,” said Bow, as Adora plucked the ball out of the air and hurled it like a meteor at Glimmer’s goal, “I’m starting to feel a little surplus to requirements.”

Catra raised an eyebrow sardonically. “Eventually they’ll tire themselves out.”

For about ten minutes now, the game had been akin to the one-on-one battles Bow and Catra had fought before Adora’s arrival had put the game on hold, except that Bow and Catra were not actually the ones playing. Rather, it appeared that Glimmer and Adora had chosen this as a new opportunity to test their mettle against each other, and neither Bow nor Catra had considered it worth the risk to intervene.

The ball thunked into the goal, and Catra delivered an extremely loud whistle. “That’s five points to Adora and Bow!”

Bow couldn’t help but feel a little bit worried when he saw Glimmer. She seemed to be fighting for air and sweating unusually hard, even for someone who’d just spent ten minutes playing a very physical sport with Adora. Her eyes were wild, and she was shaking.

Adora seemed to have noticed it, too. “Glimmer?” She reached out a hand, and Glimmer shoved it away. “Are you okay?”

“Never better,” managed Glimmer, clearly struggling to control whatever was happening. After too many long seconds, she straightened up, and her breathing began to ease.

* * *

_Day thirteen_

Glimmer moved her hands, and the shadow froze, its exterior crackling with forks of purple lightning. Another swift motion, and the walls began to glow faintly as the room was warded from outside ears.

“Shadow Weaver. Interesting to see you here. Hordak must be getting desperate for skilled officers if he let you out of your cage after everything you pulled. I imagine he just can’t get the help these days.”

The shadow writhed, and a glowing red eye appeared on it. “And what are you doing, child? Playing at being a princess? You’re not one of them. You never will be. You’re Horde, to the core.”

“For such a _talented_ sorceress, Shadow Weaver, you never were very bright.” Glimmer permitted herself a smirk. “You don’t see how thirty days in Brightmoon could be useful for intel? Really? I’ve found ten potentially exploitable holes in the defences so far, and that’s with guards shadowing me at every opportunity. If I can get them to trust me, maybe relax the guard a bit, I can give Hordak Brightmoon, wrapped up with a nice bow. The rebellion will _collapse_.”

The shadow evaluated this. “What would you have us do…Force Captain?”

“Step down raids a little, and start easing troops around the edges of the Whispering Woods – in disguise, if necessary. I’ll give you some schematics when I have the layout down.” A warning note crept into her voice. “And just in case you’re as bad at learning as you are at teaching…this is _my_ plan. _Your_ job is to execute it.”

“Understood,” said the shadow, its voice dripping with venom.

* * *

_Day seventeen_

Glimmer reached up a hand to touch the mural. She hadn’t paid it close attention since the first day, but she’d had a moment alone, and she’d just found herself in here.

“Your name’s Micah, right?” she whispered. “You’ve caused me a lot of trouble, Micah. Apparently, just being related to you put me into the crossfire. The magic’s great, thanks for that, but…” She shrugged. “I’m not a huge fan of the training. Might just be my teacher’s style, though.”

The mural continued to look down at her, dispassionately.

“Would you have been more careful in that battle, if you’d known? Would you have been here to keep Shadow Weaver away – and who would I be, if you had? If I’d grown up here, in Brightmoon, instead of having to fight for everything in the Horde? Would the luxury have made me weak, or would I be strong regardless? How would I feel about Angella, if we’d never been apart?” A thought occurred to her. “…Would I have ever met Adora?”

The mural said nothing. Murals rarely did.

“Okay, never mind. Bye, Micah.”

She was two rooms away before she wondered what the hell that just was.

* * *

_Day twenty_

“I need your help, Bow.”

This was unusual. Not being asked for advice; Bow was used to that.

Being asked for advice by the Queen was new, though.

“Anything, your Majesty. What do you need?”

Angella took a deep breath and said, “I’m not getting through to her…to Glimmer, I mean.” Her fists began to clench. “It’s been nearly three weeks. Two-thirds of my last chance…and I know I’ve wasted all of it so far. She’s still distant, cold. I just…I don’t know what to _do_. Three hundred years of rulership, and I never had a chance to learn the thing I need the most.”

Bow didn’t say _you had a great chance to learn, you just never took it_, because that wouldn’t have helped anyone. It was very tempting, though.

He rubbed his forehead. This was so far outside his pay grade it was probably in the Crimson Wastes. “If you haven’t managed to connect to her so far, it might be time to try some other avenue – some other way to link up to her. What do you know about her, apart from the obvious?”

There was a very long silence, and then Angella said, “Oh.”

“Oh?”

“You’ve been very helpful, Bow. Thank you. You may go.”

With a mental shrug, Bow headed off. Presumably, at some point he’d find out what the hell that had been about, but frankly, it had been a taxing few weeks for everyone in Brightmoon, he had his hands more than full taking care of a stressed-out, pricklier-than-usual Catra on half her usual amount of sleep per night, if Angella was going to be needlessly cryptic that was honestly fine by him – it meant it was her problem and not his.

Hmm. Maybe Catra wasn’t the only one who was stressed out and pricklier than usual. This was probably a sign that he needed to plan something fun. Fun and with minimal chance of anyone murdering anyone else, so that ruled out anything active. Thank goodness the Horde had been unusually quiet lately.

Perhaps a visit to Randor was in order.

He headed for the kowlery to select a messenger bird or three. He couldn’t do this without Netossa, and Perfuma and Mermista wouldn’t be pleased if they were left out, but it wasn’t like he could use the emergency broadcast system for this; he’d already been told off for it once.

* * *

_Day twenty-one_

“So what do you wanna talk about today?” said Glimmer, affecting a tone of boredom. “More about the _glorious history_ of Brightmoon?”

“Glimmer.” Angella’s voice was heavy, almost leaden. “I want to talk about you.”

“Me?”

“I’ve been a fool,” the queen said simply. “Talking, when I should have been listening; droning on about the history of Brightmoon, when the only part of it that matters is you.” She bowed her head. “I’m…not very good at this, and I’m sorry. I have talked more than enough; please, tell me about you. Tell me about the daughter I still haven’t truly met.”

Glimmer blinked stupidly, waiting for some sort of inspiration to strike. “W…what do you want to know?”

“Everything.” Angella raised her hand, as if reaching out to Glimmer, and then lowered it, as if embarrassed. “I want to know what you want, what you fear, what you dream of. How you feel about Shadow Weaver, and Hordak…and me. What you do to pass the time. What it is about the Fright Zone that you miss. I still hope that I can persuade you to stay…but if you choose to leave, I want to have as clear a picture of you to keep with me.”

Part of Glimmer screamed that this had to be a trick. Angella wanted to know her weaknesses. That had to be it.

But she could see the glint of tears in Angella’s eyes, and something in her gut told her that there was no trick.

“All right.” Glimmer took a deep breath. “So, I was with my old squad – Adora, Lonnie, Rogelio and Kyle – pretty much as long as I can remember…”

* * *

_Day twenty-three_

As Bow pulled himself onto the gently sloping rooftop, Catra said, “I know I shouldn’t have said it, Bow. I’m just trying to get myself under control so I can apologise without making it worse.” The magicat was curled up, her chin resting on her knees, her arms wrapped around her legs; even her tail was curled around her. It was as if she was trying to put as many layers between her heart and the world in front of her as possible.

Bow didn’t say anything at first, instead looking out at the view. It was dusk, and as the day burned away, the waterways around Brightmoon reflected the sky in a glorious display, like standing at the heart of a fire. “You picked a beautiful spot to brood, at least.”

“Don’t be cute, I’m not in the mood.” She slammed a fist into the tiles, her hair roiling in the wind – one of the first things to be abandoned to keep up with her new schedule was her ongoing struggle to keep her mane under control. “Why am I like this, Bow? Why can’t I just…be happy for Adora? No, that wouldn’t be awful enough; I have to try and hurt her. I have to lash out and accuse her of planning to drop me like a rock for her old best friend.”

“Maybe you’re just a jerk,” deadpanned Bow, in what at any other time she would have taken as a friendly invitation, and instantly regretted it when he saw the look in her eyes. “Sorry.”

“Nah, it’s okay. I kinda deserved it.”

“In all seriousness, Catra…I mean, you’ve been stressing out over Glimmer being here, you’ve been cutting back on your sleep to guard the place at night and hang out with us during the day…I think you just need a _rest_. We can keep Glimmer contained for a day or two. Get some sleep.”

“That’s not it, and you know it.” Her claws tapped against the roof. “All that happens when I’m not sleep-deprived is that I’m better at tempering it. At turning bitterness into banter, at…pulling the punches, I guess. It’s like there’s this hole inside me, and it can’t make up its mind whether it wants to be filled or not, and it sucks and I hate it.”

“This…” Bow sat down and put his arm around Catra’s shoulder. She flinched away from it for a moment, before collapsing into the hug. “Look, you know that I’ll always be there for you, but…I don’t know how to fix that. But I promise I’ll be there for you when it’s hungry, and someday, we’ll figure out how to deal with it.” He gestured to the rope he’d scaled. “Now come on; you and Adora need to talk this out.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Catra unfolded in a single flowing motion. “And if you promise you can keep the princess under control, I’ll throw a few catnaps onto the schedule; hopefully that’ll keep me at regular-awful and not today-awful.”

“A few other Alliance members are going to be here over the next couple of days, so I’ll have plenty of extra hands, at least.”

* * *

_Day twenty-five_

Bow punched the air. “Yes! Seventeen!”

After some of the missions she’d been on, Glimmer wasn’t the most welcome person at game night. Perfuma appeared ill at ease at her presence, although she hadn’t said anything about it, instead throwing herself into the experience, and Mermista kept making snide little verbal jabs at her.

Still, she had to admit that whatever this was, it was…pretty fun. Confusing as hell, but fun.

“Okay,” said Netossa, studying something on the inside of the small screen she’d set up on the table. “Orko’s spell goes off, and a couple of the karikoni are stunned for a turn. That should be helpful to you, Mermista; Adam’s right there in the middle of them, after all. Adora, you’re up next. What’s Teela going to do?”

Adora thought for a moment. “She’ll go pick a fight with the gygor. They’re one of the most dangerous things in Randor; I’m not letting it run around unchecked.” The dice fell. “Four. Well, at least it’s not going anywhere.”

“Duncan will assist you,” said Perfuma, moving her model up to next to the ape-creature Bow had painstakingly whittled. “He would not permit his daughter to face such a fearsome beast alone!”

“Okay, Perfuma, you’ll have to wait until after Glimmer goes.” Netossa turned to the newest attendee. “Glimmer?”

Now to see if she had this whole thing down. “Perkaedo is going to shift to monster form and use his club. Can I try and hit two of the karikoni at once?”

Netossa thought for a moment, and said, “Yes, but you’ll have to take a -2 penalty. Roll it!”

The dice rattled against the table. “With the penalty, that’s…fourteen. Probably not enough.”

“No, karikoni are pretty easy to hit.” Netossa scooped up one of the crab-like creatures and put it back in the box. “That one was on its last legs after the last round. The other one’s still going strong, though.”

“So, not that I, like, care or anything,” said Mermista, injecting as little emotion into her voice as possible, “but where’s Catra? It’s weird not having Hawke on the table.”

“She’s been really busy the last few weeks,” Bow told her. “I think she’s just…catching up on her sleep.”

Netossa coughed. “Anyway, I think that makes it Perfuma’s turn, and she’s already moved Duncan, so…”

* * *

_Day thirty_

Glimmer nearly dropped her bag when she opened the door. Catra was standing on the other side, glowering at her.

There was a moment of awkward tension, and then the magicat stepped aside.

“You’re not going to try and stop me?” said Glimmer.

Catra’s smile didn’t reach her eyes. “Angella said thirty days. It’s been thirty days. Far as I’m concerned, that means you’re free to go.”

Glimmer wasn’t sure why she felt a little disappointed at that. Must have been that she wanted to kick Catra’s butt after the last month.

Yeah. That must have been it.

As Glimmer headed out, Catra said, “You’re not gonna say goodbye to Angella? Or Adora?”

“…It’s better if I don’t.”

“Hey.” When Glimmer stopped, Catra tossed her a small bag. A quick rummage confirmed that it contained food and her Force Captain badge. “Take care of yourself out there, princess.”

“I thought you didn’t even like me?”

“I don’t.” Catra let that sit in the air for a moment, and then added, “But Adora does.”

This time her smile _did_ reach her eyes – a tired smile, but a smile nonetheless.

* * *

“You let her go?!” snapped Angella, her reserve gone, her face a mask of fury.

Adora wasn’t doing much better. “She…she can’t have wanted to go back! Shadow Weaver must have-”

“_She made her choice,_” hissed Catra. “For all I know she got up at the crack of dawn to make sure neither of you tried to stop her! What did you want me to do, tie her up again?” An edge of sarcasm carved its way into her voice. “Breaking our oath would _really_ show her that Brightmoon is the place to be, right? Nothing says ‘last, best hope for freedom’ like reneging on a deal at the last moment in order to hold someone captive!”

Bow made a strangled grunt. He’d _never_ seen Catra being this aggressive towards Angella. Other people, absolutely, but Angella?

Before Bow could come up with an interjection, though, the anger drained from the queen’s body like water through a sieve. “I’m sorry, Catra,” she said, her voice beginning to crack. “You’re right, of course. I promised her a choice, and I must respect it.”

“Angella, no!” This outburst was from Adora. “She…she must have been brainwashed! She couldn’t-”

“You are not to intervene, Adora,” said Angella, her voice like dented steel. “If Glimmer returns to us, it will be by her choice.” She bowed her head, and in a softer voice, she added, “All we can do is pray that she sees the light soon.”

“You do that.” Catra turned on her heel and started walking, her wild hair echoing her motions. “I’ve just finished the most tiring month of my life, it’s probably been hell to be within ten feet of me, so I’m going to get some sleep. Wake me if the castle catches fire.”

For some reason, that phrase gave Bow a bad feeling.

* * *

Glimmer tapped her badge. “All troops, form up on the prepared positions. I’ll lead the attack on the throne room via the main gate; send Scorpia to the east entry point, Mantenna to the west.”

Over the course of the month, she’d built up a pretty detailed picture of Brightmoon. She’d found the points where the troops could approach the closest without being detected, and Horde sappers had planted explosives at those points to allow ease of access.

The first set of charges went off. They’d been set opposite the main gate as a distraction; it wouldn’t be long until the real ones blew, and the battle began.

She tapped her badge again. “That’s the signal. Prepare to engage.”

The ground shook, and in a flash of flame and smoke, the breaches opened. Green lightning and purple sorcery lit up the castle as Glimmer launched the attack.

* * *

“So this is the Moonstone,” mused Glimmer, laying a hand on the shimmering surface. Her fingers began to sting slightly, but she kept them pressed to the runestone. Apparently Angella’s talk of it responding to her someday had been just that: talk.

Angella. There was definitely something to unpack there. She and Adora would be given big, flashy public executions. As the faces of the Rebellion, their deaths would be devastating to the Alliance’s morale. Catra and Bow would be interrogated, then disappeared. When they died, she likely wouldn’t hear about it.

Then Brightmoon would become part of the Fright Zone; the Whispering Woods would likely be stripped in the process. The garden where she’d sparred with Adora, the mural of Micah, the glittering shell of the Crystal Castle…gone, replaced with corroding metal and a smell of burning trash. No more apples or bread; just ration bars.

This was victory…wasn’t it? She’d beaten Adora, taken out her friends in the process. She’d won.

But what was the point of winning if you didn’t get anything out of it?

* * *

“Hey, you two. Take off for five minutes. You’ve obviously been working very hard, and could do with a break. Force Captain’s orders.”

Rogelio saluted sharply; Kyle’s was a bit sloppier. “Thanks, Gl – uh, Force Captain-”

“Get going.”

Kyle saluted again and fled.

Officially, it was against regulations for a Force Captain to dismiss the guards from a cell in order to interact with the prisoner, but the Horde didn’t run on the perfect application of all its regulations, no matter how much Hordak might want it that way. The logic among the grunts was that if a Force Captain wanted some one-on-one time to punish a particular rival of theirs, it was really no-one’s business but the Force Captain’s, and in any case it was against regs to fart while on duty and nobody cared about that either.

The back of the transport hissed open, and Catra’s eyes bored into Glimmer. “I assume you’re here to torture me, princess, so I’m gonna let you know in advance that I won’t tell you anything.”

“Wrong, actually.” Glimmer began fiddling with the restraints. “I’m here to bust you out. I made a terrible mistake, and as of right now, you’re my best chance to fix it.”

“Okay, what?” Catra’s eyes bulged out of her head. “You conquered Brightmoon and now you want to say oops, sorry, my mistake, let me just undo that and everything will be fine?”

“You catch on quickly.”

Catra’s restraints dropped to the ground as Glimmer entered the deactivation code-

The magicat moved with the speed of a striking cheetah, and Glimmer suddenly found it very hard to breathe.

“Give me one good reason I shouldn’t hold you hostage for some kind of concession. Bow’s release, maybe.”

Glimmer made a few weak coughing noises, and Catra loosened her grip. Slightly. “Hostages…hostages only matter if your enemy cares about them. Ultimately, everyone in the Horde but Hordak himself is expendable. You could snap my neck now and Hordak would find it mildly irritating.”

“I feel like being _very _irritating, princess. Telling me that killing you would annoy Hordak is just shortening your lifespan.”

“Then how about I lengthen everyone’s – yours, Bow’s, Angella’s?” Glimmer permitted herself a grin. “I know where the others are being held captive. You need me to get them out. Brightmoon hasn’t fallen until we give up on it.”

Blue and gold daggers stabbed into her. “There’s no _we_ here, princess. There’s an _us_ and there’s a _you_. If I suspect for a _second_ that you’re going to backstab _us_ again, I will make sure that _you_ will suffer before you die. Understood?”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” said Glimmer grimly. “I know where they’re keeping the sword. Should we go for Adora first?”

“No. Adora’s not subtle enough. First, let’s break Bow out. Then Adora.” The glint of Catra’s teeth in the half-light reminded Glimmer of a knife’s blade. “Then Angella, and then some payback.”

* * *

Scorpia wondered where it had all gone so wrong. They’d had the rebels in custody, Brightmoon had been ablaze…and then suddenly everything had gone belly-up. Light had blazed in the heart of the camp, Brightmoon’s waterways had become deadly weapons, the wind had hit like an anvil and the plants themselves had risen against them – just like in Plumeria.

Also just like in Plumeria, she’d gotten a very brief look at perfect beauty before it kicked her in the face. The grace of Brightmoon’s pet magicat had haunted Scorpia’s dreams for _months_ now. It was honestly a little bit absurd. Scorpia knew she wasn’t the brightest, that was Glimmer’s job…but that she kept drifting off, thinking of mismatched eyes and freckles, was frankly embarrassing.

Glimmer. That was going to be an interesting thing when they got back to base. She had _absolutely_ seen Glimmer hurling blasts of magic at Horde troops, and it hadn’t escaped her notice that Mantenna seemed to have taken sole command of the retreat.

Hordak was going to be _so mad_ about this.

* * *

Glimmer’s new quarters were, in a very literal sense, her old quarters, only with most of the pillows taken out and rather more guards around. Presumably in deference to her role in ending the battle she’d started, her hands were free, but her staff had been confiscated, and, well, those guards were still there. Even though this room had been a long way from the fight, it still smelled of smoke; most of Brightmoon did.

The door swung open, and Adora stepped through. Alone of those who had fought, Adora was uninjured; her recovery speed as She-Ra was astounding.

“Angella wants to see you.”

* * *

The entire Alliance had gathered in the throne room to witness this judgment. The princesses were standing to one side: a suspicious Perfuma, the unreadable smirk of Mermista, the flinty gazes of Spinnerella and Netossa…

…And, off to the other side, Bow and Catra. You could have cut metal with Catra’s expression.

The throne was still scarred from the assault; clearly, Angella had prioritised repairing the walls. The queen stood over it, wings folded around her like a cloak, forming a filmy barrier between her and the rest of the throne room.

“Glimmer.” Angella’s voice was cold, and her eyes were as hard as amethysts. “I will require an explanation of your conduct. Had Bow not sent for the Alliance, your actions could have lead to disaster…and yet you also saved us.”

Glimmer dropped to one knee, frantically checking her memory for the most formal way to deliver this. “I can offer no excuse for my actions, your Majesty. The Horde attack was my command, and my folly. All I can offer in recompense is my loyalty. I forswear all allegiance to the Horde; I will give whatever is necessary, even my life, to defend Brightmoon. I ask only the chance to earn forgiveness for my actions.”

Angella’s face was as unyielding as stone, although her eyes did flick to Adora for a second. “We have accepted the loyalty of Horde defectors before, so there is precedent…but none who have caused so much harm. However…we _must_ allow a path back from the darkness. Very well. I will accept your allegiance…but you will remain on probation until I deem you trustworthy.” Then the stone cracked, for just a second. “You have your chance, my daughter. _Take it._”

Nobody noticed that the shadows at the edge of the hall were perhaps a little deeper than they should have been.

* * *

Seeing this, Bow reached out and pulled Catra into a hug. Her body felt like it was made entirely from wire, every muscle stretched as taut as a guitar string.

“Angella’s going to forgive her,” hissed the magicat, her eyes burning. “She betrayed us, nearly got us all killed, and Angella’s going to forgive her. She’s just looking for a chance.”

“Glimmer _did_ at least try to fix it-” The blue and yellow flames scorched him, but Bow stood his ground. “I’m not saying that _you_ have to forgive her, or like her, or anything like that. But she realised she screwed up, and she tried to make it right. I think that counts for _something_, even if it’s not much.”

“You’re taking her side-”

“I’m taking the side of you not bursting a blood vessel!” Bow took a deep breath. “I know you’re angry about what she did. Honestly, you _should_ be angry; I know I am. But this isn’t going to help.”

Catra relaxed, just a little. “Yeah, I know. I just…I should have seen it coming. It was my job to keep an eye on her, and she managed to coordinate this whole thing under my nose. We nearly died because I missed something, and now Angella is giving her another chance to finish us off.”

“If she wanted to finish us off, why didn’t she just let the Horde kill us?”

“_I don’t know!_” Catra’s voice was a low snarl, like a warning from a wounded animal. “I don’t know what she’s playing at, and I hate playing games where I don’t know the rules. I need to be more vigilant. She’s going to try _something_, I just know it.”

Bow could tell there was no way to talk her down from _this_ ledge. “At least promise that you’ll get enough sleep this time? Think of it as a tactical advantage.”

“No promises,” growled Catra.

* * *

“Glimmer.”

Glimmer turned to see Adora standing in the door, the light of the corridor glowing around her.

“I’m glad you helped us…” continued Adora, studying her carefully, “but why? You went straight from hurling spells at me to busting me out of prison. Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy you did…but it was a pretty quick change.”

Glimmer looked at her for a long time, and then said, “I like it better here than the Fright Zone.”

Adora’s forehead wrinkled. “That’s it?”

“That’s all you’re getting, Adora. No dramatic revelations, no sudden attacks of conscience. I just don’t want the entire planet to smell like burning trash.” She smiled wryly. “If you need a philosophical victory, some ‘virtue’ you’ve convinced me to adopt, then I hope for your sake that honesty counts.”

“All right then.” There was a slight edge to Adora’s voice. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

As the door slammed shut behind Adora, Glimmer quickly deployed the silence spell again, then the binding spell. A wisp of shadow in the corner rose into view, energy thrumming around its edges.

“I think you’ve heard enough, Shadow Weaver.” Glimmer’s voice was like an icicle. “No more listening in. Get out of here.”

“You orchestrated this just to hurt me,” hissed the shadow. “Pathetic. Is there anyone you haven’t betrayed? You betrayed your new friends, and they know it. You betrayed the Horde. You betrayed me.”

“And you betrayed me first,” spat back Glimmer. “You could have just left me here, and none of this would ever have happened. Or you could have backed off, let me _rest_ \- all I ever wanted was your respect and some room to breathe. But you wouldn't, couldn't let me stand for myself, you had to cut me down, again and again. So now I'm taking what I want for myself. Really, you should have seen this coming years ago.”

“Glimmer, wait! I…was hard on you, I know. But it was the only way to bring you to the greatness you deserve. The only way to unlock your true potential-”

“I’m tired of _my potential_ being the only thing anyone wants from me. Run along now. I’m sure Hordak won’t take out _all_ your internal organs and show them to you.” She grinned viciously. “I wish I knew the spell you’re using now; I’d give _so much_ to be a fly on the wall as he shows you your own heart. Assuming you have one, anyway.”

“The Horde is strong, Glimmer, and you are small and weak,” snarled Shadow Weaver. “I’ll always be with you. Watching you. You will live to regret your arrogance.”

Glimmer made a dismissive gesture, and the shadow was torn to shreds.

* * *

“I grow ever more weary of your failures, Shadow Weaver,” intoned Hordak. “Brightmoon in our grasp…and thwarted by one of your wards. The one you assured me was loyal, moreover.” His voice thrummed with the promise of imminent bloodshed, and Shadow Weaver knew only too well who the first target would be. “One might almost suspect you were driving promising young officers away from the Horde deliberately.”

“My lord, I beg of you – one last chance! Adora and Glimmer are lost to us, but I have one final plan in motion. One that will solve two of our problems at once: it will hamstring the Rebellion, and it will significantly strengthen our own forces.”

Hordak studied her dispassionately, his eyes searing into her. “Then explain it to me, Shadow Weaver – and quickly. Lives are at stake.” Red fangs flashed in a mirthless smile. “Or one life, anyway.”

“My lord, I believe one of the rebellion’s key commanders may be…amenable to persuasion – if we approach her carefully, anyway. My intelligence indicates that she is a gifted strategist and skilled combatant, but feels…stifled by a lack of recognition. I believe that with time, and a few careful moves, we may be able to win her loyalty. Due to her position and experience, this will likely be a serious blow to Brightmoon’s morale, buying us time to resume our advance.”

Hordak evaluated this. “Very well then, Shadow Weaver. But make no mistake: the slightest error on your part, and you will receive only a very brief window in which to regret it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With thanks to The+Observer for inspiring me to ramp things up, and apologies to The+Observer for not keeping Glimmer a loyal Horde commander the entire time as I know they wanted. If it helps, and I'm hoping this came across, Glimmer still isn't a _good guy_; her motives are honestly pretty selfish.


	4. Heroes of Brightmoon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Glimmer begins to learn how to truly fit in at Brightmoon.

Wearing Horde red was not going to cut it, Glimmer knew. She was officially a defector now, albeit one under deep suspicion; she’d need to look the part. She also needed to keep the long sleeves and leggings; that was non-negotiable.

She managed to dig up a couple of things that resembled her last outfit, only purple…no, the sleeves were too short. A little more rummaging found some long white gloves. Throw on the half-cape, and…there!

As she studied herself in the mirror, Glimmer noticed that her hair was beginning to grow out. Probably a good thing, honestly. The buzzcut had been a solid survival strategy in the Horde, where might made right and intimidation was a powerful weapon. Pink hair just didn’t fit that, so she kept it short.

But priorities had changed. Now, her survival rested on seeming _non-threatening_ to the Princess Alliance. Pink hair could fill that role admirably. She briefly speculated on the possibilities inherent to pigtails, when her hair grew long enough, and immediately banished the thought; no matter how harmless she wanted to look, there were limits.

From the blue and gold that appeared in her mirror, Glimmer could tell she had a visitor.

“Hey, princess.” The voice that issued from behind her was a menacing hiss.

“Catra. Can I help you?” Glimmer knew, deep down, that antagonising her rival was going to be a bad move in the long run. If she could win over Catra, she’d have a much easier time getting out of Angella’s bad books; the queen was obviously quite fond of the magicat.

That being said…Catra also hated her guts. Being conciliatory now wasn’t going to fix that; if anything, it would make her more suspicious. Fading hostility, that was going to be the trick. She needed to make it seem like she was genuinely warming up to Catra, and hopefully, Catra would respond in kind.

“Nah, I just needed to deliver a message,” said Catra, in what would have sounded like a friendly tone to a less suspicious ear. Her voice dropped back into the hiss. “I’m going to be keeping an even closer eye on you than before. I don’t know what you’re trying to pull or how your little reversal plays into it, but I assure you, I’m going to figure it out. We’re going to be spending a lot of time on the same missions, and make no mistake – if you try anything, you’re going to be a casualty figure.”

“Is it really so hard for you to believe that I’ve genuinely seen the error of my ways?” said Glimmer, her tone on the edge between sweet and mocking.

“Yes.”

* * *

The Horde fortress squatted like a grotesque on the cliff, its guns trained on the pass below. Horde prefab construction allowed them to set up bases and fortifications much faster than the Rebellion, and the Rebellion didn’t have the manufacturing capacity to match them.

Catra patted Adora’s arm. “Calm down, bright-eyes. The plan’s good, you know that. We worked hard enough on it.”

“What if there’s something we didn’t plan for?” Adora said, clearly still worried.

“You, me and Bow have dealt with some pretty significant stuff. Everything will be fine as long as they aren’t hiding, like, a company of tanks in there.”

* * *

“Why did they hide a company of tanks in here?!” snarled Catra as she leaped out of the way of the barrage. “Is there nowhere else you could have been placed?”

“Must be something really important here!” This was from Bow.

“I wouldn’t bet on it!” Glimmer hurled a blast of force at one of the tanks, knocking it backwards. “They might just be in transit-”

As the weapons fired, Glimmer hurriedly brought up a force barrier – just a hair too late. She stumbled and fell as the barrier shattered, landing roughly on her back, and as she tried to pick herself up, found herself looking into the menacing triangular eye of a Horde tank cannon. She flinched as it fired-

But Adora was already there, her sword transforming into a shield before Glimmer’s eyes. The beam struck it dead-on, and then the energy reflected, somehow, tearing back toward its source. The tank rocked under the impact of its own blast, and there was a small explosion from underneath as the grav systems failed, dropping it like a rock.

Saved by Adora, again. Glimmer waited for the usual results of that happening: an ugly feeling in her guts, a drop of fear that swiftly turned into anger…

They didn’t happen. She felt vaguely uncomfortable for a moment, which was expected, but the surge of envy just…didn’t appear, somehow. That was weird. She’d need to have a think about that after the fight.

“Glimmer!” Bow dashed over and helped her up. “Are you okay?”

“Never better,” said Glimmer, and meant it.

* * *

“Adora?”

Adora instinctively reached for the knife under her pillow, before her conscious mind kicked in and stopped her hand from moving. “Glimmer? Are you okay?”

Looking down, Glimmer said, “I couldn’t sleep. Do you mind if I stay in here with you tonight? I’m hoping…”

“Hoping that having some company will help. It worked for me, back when I was new here.” Adora looked around the room, her eyes gradually adjusting to the darkness. “We could pile up those couch cushions, throw on a blanket?”

“That sounds great.”

This done, they lay down in silence…but after a few moments, the silence was broken.

“Adora?”

Well, she definitely wasn’t getting any more sleep tonight. “Yes, Glimmer?”

“I need to apologise.” Adora could sense the effort her friend was putting into keeping her voice level.

“You already apologised for-”

“For _some_ of what I’ve done,” Glimmer said, cutting Adora off. “The spells, the fighting, the battle of Brightmoon…I’ve told you how sorry I was for those. But what I need to talk about isn’t that; it’s more subtle.” She took a deep breath. “I let Shadow Weaver twist me up inside, and I forgot…I forgot who you were. I forgot you were my best friend, and not just an obstacle in my path. Actually, scratch that; I don’t think I ever _really_ knew who you were. I thought I did, but…it took me too long to realise this, but I think you’re more _you_ here than you _ever_ could have been with the Horde. I can’t believe I was mad at you for leaving; you could _never_ have stayed, not without betraying yourself, and I should have realised that long ago.” She paused for a moment. “I’m sorry, I’m rambling.”

“If it’s helping, Glim…keep rambling.”

“Thank you.” Another deep breath. “And now that I’m here, and I’ve seen the _real_ you, the you I think you were always trying to be…I can’t stop thinking about her. About you.”

“Glim…” Adora had no idea what to say beyond that.

“I don’t know if I’m ever going to be the person you and Angella want me to be, Adora. Being here, not having to fight for everything, it’s…it’s helping, but…I can’t be as selfless as you. I don’t have it in me.”

Adora flinched. “I don’t want you to be me, Glimmer!” She could tell her voice was cracking. “I just…I just want you to be someone I can trust.”

“You can trust me-”

“_Can I_, Glimmer?” Adora had never been so glad her room was so far from everyone else’s. “Last time I thought I could trust you, you led an army here!”

“I know,” said Glimmer softly, and Adora felt the anger…not drain away, exactly, but retreat.

She suddenly felt very, very tired. “Get some sleep, Glimmer. I…I can’t think about this right now.”

“All right,” said Glimmer coldly.

Silence returned.

* * *

_Later_

The streets of Seaworthy echoed to the ring of metal against metal and the sound of weapons fire. The Horde dreadnought had simply thundered into the bay, smashing aside the more fragile ships of Seaworthy’s natives, and disgorged a small army from its front ramp.

“Sea Hawk! Got any ideas?” snapped Mermista, knocking a Horde soldier from their feet with a vicious swing from her trident.

“Well,” said Sea Hawk, “we could set _every_ ship in the harbour on fire…”

Mermista’s only response was a frustrated sigh.

* * *

Glimmer studied the Horde dreadnought, her lips pursed. The commander of this attack was probably still aboard…yes, there they were. That looked like Octavia. She fired a speculative blast of magic, but it dissipated long before it posed her target any risk.

Well, it wasn’t like there was any shortage of closer targets. She hurled another blast into a robot and watched dispassionately as it sparked and slumped to the ground.

In theory, the plan for their visit had been to supplement Salineas’s increasingly battered navy with privateer captains, just while Mermista’s people repaired and rebuilt their ships. Following the failure of the Brightmoon offensive, the Horde had been increasingly aggressive on the seas, and while they hadn’t penetrated the Sea Gate yet, there were enough coastal communities that the Salineans were kept very busy maintaining control over the seas.

The theory was great, but the practical was sort of eluding them. If they could win this fight, they’d probably pick up some new allies, at least; the Horde hadn’t attacked Seaworthy so far because as a neutral port it wasn’t a priority target, but something about invasions influenced people in ways that did not lead to making friends. They either really expected to win, or they were getting desperate.

More worryingly, Glimmer hadn’t heard anything about this dreadnought. She’d always considered herself pretty plugged in to the Horde gossip network, at least until a bit under two months ago, but the ship currently sitting in the bay hadn’t even provoked a whisper. Unless the Horde had somehow managed to assemble it in six weeks, which seemed unlikely given the scale of the construction, they’d managed to keep Project Whatever That Was under wraps to such an extent that even internally, she hadn’t picked up so much as a whisper about it.

That did not bode well.

Hmm. She was definitely starting to get used to thinking of the Horde as ‘they’.

* * *

Bow muttered a curse he’d picked up off Catra as he fumbled for the right arrow. He was beginning to run low on…everything, honestly. He’d packed for “just in case”, not “out-and-out warfare”. There were a _lot_ of Horde robots around.

As he loosed his shot, Adora and Glimmer spoke at once.

“Bow!”

“Get down!”

Both Bow and Glimmer grunted as she cannoned into his back, hurling him to the ground. Bolts of red energy flew overhead, to be answered by a radiant beam from Adora’s sword.

Bow took a deep breath. “Thanks, Glimmer. You really saved my butt there.” He tried to pick himself up, but his arms were caught in an awkward position, and Glimmer’s weight remained on his back – and from the sound of it, her breathing had become worryingly shallow. “Glimmer?”

* * *

Glimmer gave a low, pained moan as she drifted out of sleep. Her left arm throbbed with a dull ache, and she didn’t seem to be able to move it. After a moment, it was joined in its misery by her head.

From the feel of it, she wasn’t wearing her top, although her underclothes had been mercifully left in place.

“Hey, princess.”

Her eyes fluttered open, but she still couldn’t see much. The room was dark, lit only by a few flickers of light, but the soft(ish) surface under her told her she was on a mattress of some sort.

The voice was familiar, at least.

“What do you want, Catra?” she managed, although it had nowhere near as harsh an edge as she was trying to put into it.

Catra shifted in the darkness and said, reluctance hanging from every word, “I want to thank you. If you hadn’t been there…look, you saved my best friend. Got hurt doing it, even.” She paused. “I still don’t trust you…but you did something right today.”

“I’ll try not to make a habit of it,” said Glimmer weakly.

Catra chuckled, almost despite herself. “See that you don’t. Then I might have to admit I was wrong, and who needs that kind of hassle?” She moved again, the door creaked, and a shaft of light cut through the shadow, showing Glimmer that they were in what looked like a typical Seaworthy inn bedroom; not the most salubrious sickroom, but, heh, any port in a storm. “Hey bright-eyes! She’s awake!”

Within moments, Catra had gone, and Adora sat by the side of Glimmer’s bed.

“Hey, Glim. How are you feeling?”

“Fine,” said Glimmer, her tone sullen. “How long have I been out?”

“A few hours. You took a pretty bad hit; your arm’s going to be out of action for a couple of weeks, at least. Seaworthy’s safe, though; we managed to drive them off, and Catra gave the commander some pretty nasty scars to remember us by.”

Adora’s hand hovered above Glimmer’s free arm, as if she was holding herself back from running her fingertips over the damage. The limb was covered in marks: a few were regular wounds, the scratches and cuts she could have picked up in any fight, but the rest were forked burns, picked out in magenta, and coils of dark pigmentation that looked like black smoke – a thunderstorm branded onto her arm.

“How did you get these, Glim? These aren’t normal scars. They look like…”

Glimmer snatched her arm away, as best she could, and snapped, “I don’t want to talk about it.” After a moment, she visibly calmed down. “I’m sorry, but…I’d prefer not to. Call it a touchy subject, I guess.”

“Glim, I…okay.” Adora thought for a moment. “Would you like to borrow my jacket – cover them up until we get back to Brightmoon?”

“Thank you.” The corners of Glimmer’s mouth quirked upwards in a smile. “Everyone always relies on you, don’t they, Adora? Shadow Weaver did, now Angella…and me…even Catra does, although I think she’d rather eat hot coals than admit it.”

“Yeah, but I don’t mind. At least I’m being useful.”

A thought came to Glimmer. “Adora…who do _you_ rely on?”

Adora pursed her lips and said, “The people I trust. Bow, Catra…”

“But not me.”

Adora looked very tired. “I don’t know yet, Glimmer. I wish I did.” She paused, and added, “Thanks for saving Bow, though.”

* * *

Bow scanned the horizon and checked his tracker-pad. “The Horde are nearly here, all right. I’m seeing a lot of drones, a few tanks. I don’t recognise the commander; they look like some kind of cyborg, and I’m getting some weird readings on the tracker-pad, like they’re a person and a drone standing in the same place.”

Glimmer whistled and said, “Mantenna. This could be tough; if they’re sending Mantenna, they really want to retake Elberon.”

Catra’s head popped up through the hatch, swiftly followed by the rest of her; she’d been consulting with some scouts on the ground floor. “Most of the town’s been evacuated – they’re starting to get used to it – but apparently there’s an outlying section that’s been cut off by fire. When the Horde gets here, they’ll be enslaved – or worse. We need to move quickly, make sure they’re safe.”

“Mantenna’s the priority,” said Glimmer bluntly. “If he’s not second-in-command already, he probably will be soon, and he’ll be very good at it. We bring him down here, we save a lot of trouble later on. I say we launch a precision strike, cut off the head.”

“That would mean abandoning the civilians,” shot back Catra. “That’s not on the table.”

“The Horde wouldn’t hesitate to sacrifice entire squads to bring down any of the princesses-”

“And we’re not the Horde,” said Bow, finality ringing in his voice. “We don’t throw lives away for the sake of convenience.”

“Sometimes you need to make sacrifices to win.”

“Of course, I’d forgotten your true colours,” Catra said with a sneer. “Red and black, right? You’ve been in Brightmoon for months; have you learned _anything_, or are you the same person who betrayed us, just in a different outfit?”

“Back off, Catra,” said Bow. “Glimmer, I appreciate that this isn’t how you were originally trained, but you’re not a Force Captain any more. You’re in the Rebellion now. It’s a different skill-set, and part of that is fighting defensively.”

Glimmer turned to the fourth member of the group. “Adora, back me up on this-”

“No.” Adora fixed Glimmer with a stern look. “Bow’s right, Glimmer. The Rebellion stands for ideals, not just cold pragmatism. If we abandon those people…we tell everyone that we’re no better than Hordak or Mantenna. It could cost us the war, in the long run. We’ll get another chance at Mantenna; we’ll never get another chance to save those people.”

Glimmer nodded slowly. “All right. Let’s get going, then; we don’t have much time.”

Catra eyed her suspiciously and demanded, “It can’t be that easy. You’re just going to go along with this?”

The princess shrugged. “Vote was three-one. We don’t have time to fight over it.” One corner of her mouth quirked upwards. “I’ll take a shot at Mantenna if I get a chance, but we’ve got a time limit; I’m not gonna be stupid about it just to prove a point.”

* * *

Glimmer grunted, more in irritation than pain, as energy bolts glanced off her force barrier. It wouldn’t hold for long, but it didn’t need to – most of the villagers had made their escape after she and Adora had broken through the curtain of fire. As it stood, the others were helping fend off Horde outriders while she held back the main advance.

The Horde forces parted, and a figure emerged from the crowd.

Mantenna was tall – not as tall as Rogelio, but still tall. He was apparently the only one of his kind among the Horde; no-one else had four legs or his unique eyes, which it was said could see through anything but lead. Metal gleamed across much of his body, and Horde soldiers liked to swap urban myths about the source of his cybernetics. He was only a recent promotion to Force Captain – he’d just gotten the job when Glimmer had been captured in Thaymor – but even as a cadet, he’d been a cold, calculating tactician, the kind of leader who’d feed his squad into a meat grinder without blinking to get what the Horde wanted. (To be fair, “without blinking” was how he seemed to do most things.)

An ideal candidate to be Hordak’s second-in-command, in other words.

The Force Captain studied her through the filmy purple barrier, his jagged, X-shaped pupils boring into her like augers.

“Force Captain Glimmer.” Mantenna’s voice had a harsh, mechanical undertone, like his throat was full of grinding gears. “Your presence was anticipated; your failure, likewise. You cannot hold Elberon with your current forces, especially if you continue making foolhardy gambits like this. What tactical value does this serve?”

“It drew you out, for one thing.”

The barrier dropped, and Glimmer went on the offensive. Mantenna hurriedly raised his arm to bring up his wrist-mounted shield, bracing his four legs for the impact, as a volley of energy blasts flew towards him.

“Glimmer!” yelled Bow from behind her. “I’ve got an injured villager – get the barrier back up!”

Time seemed to freeze, as Glimmer glared at Mantenna. If she pressed the attack, she might be able to kill him, bring down Hordak’s best chance to keep his campaign functional. There were no genuinely viable candidates left: Shadow Weaver probably hadn’t survived Glimmer’s defection, Octavia didn’t have the skills, and Scorpia was…well, Scorpia.

On the other hand, if she left the barrier down, Bow and the casualty would probably get, at minimum, hurt, and probably quite badly.

With an inarticulate grunt of frustration, she traced the signal for the barrier spell in midair and restored the wall of force. Mantenna’s reckoning would come…but not today, apparently. Not today.

Mantenna studied her coldly, and gradually withdrew towards the main Horde advance, which was probably going to take Elberon. Glimmer and the others were too far out of position; there wasn’t much they could do, even with She-Ra in their corner.

The people would be safe, at least. Apparently that was more important.

* * *

“Catra?”

The magicat stretched out. “Oh, hey Adora. What’s up?”

“I need to ask you something.”

There was a momentary pause, and Catra said, “Again, all I do is get Mermista shaving cream in bulk, what she does with it after that is her department.”

“Are you going to default to that every time I try to ask you a question?” said Adora, more amused than irritated.

“Probably.” Catra grinned at her. “With the formalities concluded, what were you actually going to ask?”

Adora looked around suspiciously, as if she was worried someone might overhear. “I’m feeling really weird, but I don’t feel sick. Is it some other, weird kind of sickness? Am I going to die?!”

Catra held up her hands and said, “Okay, slow down, bright-eyes. How do you actually _feel_?”

“My stomach feels weird – like it’s full of that bubbly stuff Entrapta drinks.”

“Soda?”

“That was it, yeah.” Adora took a steadying breath. “And I keep having some really weird emotional swings, like I’m shooting from really happy to being punched in the chest and back again.”

Catra’s eyes bored into Adora. “And are you really focused on one person in particular – like, you can’t stop thinking about them? And do most of these mood swings happen when you’re near them?”

“Yes! So what’s wrong with me?”

There was a very long pause, and then Catra groaned. “Did the Horde teach you _anything_ apart from hitting stuff?”

Adora’s brow furrowed, and Catra sighed.

“Okay. So what you’ve got is what Brightmoon’s best scientists call ‘a crush’.” No response. “Part of you wants to fall in love with them, and is giving you a bit of a push in that direction. Or so I’ve heard, anyway; I don’t really get crushes much?” The lights went on in Adora’s eyes. “So who’s the lucky person? Perfuma, maybe? Mermista? Bow?”

“Glimmer.”

Catra’s smile became a little more plastic, and her eyes narrowed.

“Okay. Okay. I know that she hasn’t been doing too badly lately, and you’re going to do whatever you think is best no matter what I say, but…if you try and make something of it, please, just…be careful. For me, okay?”

“I…okay, Catra. I’ll be careful.” She thought for a moment. “So what do people do when they’re trying to, um, make something of it?”

The magicat’s smile was replaced with an expression of sheer disbelief. “You’re joking.” A moment passed, and she relaxed and added, “No, of course you’re not joking. I’m gonna punch Shadow Weaver in the gut for what she’s done to you if I ever see her again, I swear by the moons. Okay. Across most of Etheria, it’s traditional to, like, go on dates, take them to dinner, go picnicking, romantic walks under the moonlight…you should really ask Bow about this, though, he’s apparently quite the romantic.”

“Really?”

“Well, he’s been on more dates than I have.” She chuckled at Adora’s expression. “Which is to say, he’s been on dates. I just…haven’t found the time.”

* * *

Glimmer looked up from the book she was reading as Adora approached. To all appearances, she was perusing a volume on the history of Brightmoon, the exact kind of thing she was supposed to be learning.

(In truth, Mermista had smuggled in a cheap paperback about an outcast Salinean pirate queen’s forbidden romance with a scorpioni Horde soldier, and some of the passages were, well, insofar as Shadow Weaver had provided _any_ information on the facts of life, she certainly hadn’t mentioned any of _this_.)

“Adora! What’s up?”

Adora was curiously red in the face, and she didn’t seem entirely confident for some reason. She took a deep breath. “Okay, so I need to ask you something, and it’s kind of weird, and I didn’t expect to be asking it, and Catra says I should be careful, but she didn’t say _not_ to ask it, so…”

Glimmer’s confusion must have been visible on her face, because Adora rubbed the back of her head and grinned sheepishly. “Sorry, let me start over.” Another deep breath. “Glimmer, I was wondering if you’d be interested in going on a picnic tomorrow. Just the two of us.”

“…That’s your definition of weird?” Adora looked honestly offended for a moment, and Glimmer smiled softly. “Sorry. I was expecting…I don’t know what I was expecting, honestly, just not that. I’d love to.” A mischievous mote twinkled in her lilac eyes. “So does this mean you-”

“I don’t hold grudges forever, Glim. And yes…I trust you.”

“I’ll try to be worthy of it.”

Adora’s brow wrinkled, and she said, “Why do you keep making such a big deal about me trusting you, Glim?” She seemed to realise how that came out. “I mean, why me and not Bow or Catra?”

Glimmer went very still as she processed this. Oh well, time to commit. “Because I care what you think of me, more than anyone else. The more I get to know you – the real you, the you Shadow Weaver would never have let you be – the more I care. The more I want to be someone worthy of you.” She paused for a moment and grinned wickedly. “Besides, Bow will forgive anything and Catra’s probably going to hate me until one of us dies.”

“But Angella-”

“Angella is nice and all…but she’s play-acting at being a mother, and deep down she knows it.” She offered her hand. “The best thing about being here isn’t the food, or the scenery, or the scents. It’s being with you, without Shadow Weaver around to poison us. The way things should have been from the beginning.”

“Glim…”

Moments before Adora could take Glimmer’s hand, Bow’s voice rang out.

“Glimmer! Adora!”

The dark-skinned man burst around the corner, breathing heavily. “Angella sent me. Wanted everyone in the throne room. Particularly you, Glimmer.”

He seemed oblivious to the looks both Glimmer and Adora shot him.

* * *

When Glimmer arrived in the throne room, she was ushered away from the others and into the focal point of the room, where she had received Angella’s judgment after the Siege of Brightmoon. The fading black banners framed the room, and Angella sat, silhouetted by the light of the moons – and the Moonstone. She could tell Mermista, Entrapta and Perfuma were there, but apparently Spinnerella and Netossa were busy elsewhere.

“Glimmer.” The queen’s voice gave away nothing. “Kneel, if you would.”

Glimmer lowered herself to one knee as Angella rose from the throne.

“When last you knelt before this throne, it was as a penitent: one who knew she had done wrong, and sought to make amends. Since then…”

A warm smile spread across Angella’s face.

“Since then, you have demonstrated yourself to be a true child of Brightmoon. You have proven to my satisfaction that your former alliances are no more, and your heart belongs to the Alliance. You have saved lives, protected friends and driven evil back whenever it made its presence known, and I deem you ready to take up the role you were born for.”

Light blazed, illuminating the throne room like a moon rising in its heart. “Stand, Glimmer, Princess of Brightmoon.” Angella gestured, the radiant aura outlining her every move, and a staff materialised in her hand: its shaft a deep purple colour, while the tip was translucent, emblazoned with a four-pointed star. “This was your father’s staff. I know he would want you to have it.”

* * *

Bow had genuinely never seen Catra this emotional. Her tail was so agitated he was surprised it wasn’t cracking like a whip, and her eyes burned with wrath.

And while he had to admit that Glimmer had worked hard to earn their forgiveness (also, saving his life probably counted in her favour), if anyone deserved to be angry about this, it was Catra.

“In the unlikely event that anyone needs me, I’ll be on patrol in the Woods,” hissed the magicat. She stalked out of the hall, and Bow winced as her claws scraped along the door.

Adora’s forehead wrinkled in confusion, and she asked, “What’s up with her? I know she doesn’t like Glimmer, but-”

“_Adora_-” Bow forced down an angry reply and breathed deeply, deploying the relaxation exercises he’d picked up from Perfuma. “Sorry.” His mind raced as he tried to find a good metaphor to explain Catra’s issues to someone who had exactly the opposite set of issues. “Look, I don’t know if I can explain it to you. You’ve never really been…isolated like that, I guess. Then again, I haven’t really either, so…”

Inspiration struck. “Imagine it in terms of food, okay? You may not have gotten good food, or the right food, but you’ve never really gone hungry – metaphorically speaking, anyway.” Adora nodded in an I-don’t-really-get-it-but-keep-going kind of way. “Catra’s spent most of her life desperately scrabbling for table scraps, and now Glimmer steps out of nowhere, kicks Catra in the shins, plonks her butt down in the one vacant seat, and starts eating.”

“Such beautiful word pictures you paint,” said Glimmer drily from behind him, and Bow scowled.

“My point is, Catra’s been dealing with a _lot_ for a _while_. Of course she’s in a bad mood! She’s seen something she’s dreamed of for at least a decade dangled in front of her, then snatched away, again.” He breathed out again. “Okay, she’s probably had a moment to calm down. I’ll go see if I can talk to her.” He half-walked, half-ran for the exit, leaving Glimmer and Adora standing in the middle of the floor.

Adora reached out a hand. “Your highness. I seem to recall we were talking?”

“Not now, Adora,” said Glimmer with a sigh. “Look…I meant everything I said. But it’s not the time. Not after…” She gestured vaguely in the air. “That.”

“I thought you didn’t even like Catra?”

“I don’t.” Glimmer let that sit in the air for a moment, and then added, “But that doesn’t mean I can’t feel for her. I’ve been where she is; I wouldn’t wish it on anyone-”

“Glimmer,” said a voice from behind her, and she turned to face Angella. The queen was smiling warmly, but Glimmer could make out hints of tension. “As the princess of Brightmoon, the time has come for you to undergo the bonding ceremony and take up the Moonstone’s power.”

“I touched it during…” Glimmer let her voice trail off. “That. It didn’t do anything.”

“Because the Moonstone was already bonded – to me,” explained the queen. “For you to claim some of its power, I must release it.”

The doors burst open, and the dark-skinned figure of Bow moved in, clearly hurrying. He was clutching his side, but Glimmer couldn’t see any sign of an injury; no blood around his hand, no visible wounds. From his heavy breathing and general gait, she assumed he’d given himself a stitch; unusual, since Bow was usually good at pacing himself.

Adora was the first to speak. “Bow? What-”

“Catra’s been captured!” He held up her mask – the silver crescent was spattered with mud and what might have been blood. “Whoever attacked her must have been waiting almost on the edge of the Woods; there were signs of a struggle, and the tracks led to the imprint of a Horde skiff.”

Glimmer’s eyes darted to the shadows in the corners of the room, and she cursed softly. Of course Hordak would suddenly develop a forgiving streak. Of course Shadow Weaver would have been given another chance.

She didn’t like Catra much…but that didn’t mean she wanted to leave the girl in the hands of someone like Shadow Weaver.

She spun to face Angella. “Postpone the ceremony. She needs our help.”

“Of course,” said the queen. Her face was stony, but Glimmer could make out the fear in her eyes – and, from the looks of it, so could Bow. “We still have some captured skiffs. Take whatever you need and bring her back.”

“Of course, your Majesty…Mother. Adora, Bow, get the others. We need a plan.”

* * *

Catra hung in the air between the prongs, her hair standing on end, individual sparks leaping to her arms and legs. Only someone who knew her very well would have been able to detect the stress in her voice as she spoke.

“Gotta say, I’m not loving these accommodations. I’m tempted to take my business elsewhere. I mean, in Brightmoon’s cells, you at least get a bed and some cushions.”

Two lights blazed in the darkness behind her, and a voice like the venom of a snake oozed out of the murk. “Such bravado, child. A strong spirit has always been one of your most admirable qualities, hasn’t it?”

“Hey, Shadow Weaver,” said Catra, forcing a smirk. “Remember when I kicked your butt without even breaking a sweat? Just _wham_, down you went? Can’t wait until I get out of here and treat you to part two.”

“How charmingly optimistic…if only you were going to get out of here.” Shadow Weaver stepped out of the darkness – well, most of it, anyway – and loomed in front of Catra, her hair framing her face like a cobra’s hood.

“My friends will come for me,” said Catra, defiantly. “Whatever you’ve prepared, they’ll find a way past it. I’m not going to be here more than a day.”

“Angella has no reason to authorise a rescue mission, child. She already has what she wants from you: her precious daughter back in her arms, both pretending, at least for now, that they were never apart. That Angella never laid claim to _you_.”

“No.” Catra could sense the note of denial that was creeping into her voice. “No, she wouldn’t. Not after everything I’ve done for her.”

Shadow Weaver snapped her fingers, and Angella’s voice echoed from the darkness.

_…droning on about the history of Brightmoon, when the only part of it that matters is you…_

_…you have your chance, my daughter…_

_…stand, Glimmer, Princess of Brightmoon…_

“So what is it you want from me?” snarled Catra, her mask of calm dissolving into tatters.

“I want to offer you a chance at what you desire most: the respect you’ve earned.” Shadow Weaver reached through the containment, laying a gentle hand on Catra’s chin; the red lightning recoiled from her hand, as if it feared her. “You’ve been neglected, stifled, used for the benefit of others: Angella, Adora, Glimmer. Only Bow has ever been truly genuine with you, hasn’t he? But he is but one man, and Brightmoon’s queen is a demigod in all but name.” The hand withdrew. “But in the Horde…there are opportunities you would be amply able to exploit. Why, even I – an outcast from Mystacor – was swiftly accepted, and I soon rose to become Hordak’s second-in-command. I did not need any connection of blood, nor was I the second coming of some glorious myth. All I needed were skill and drive, gifts I know you possess in abundance.” There was warmth in Shadow Weaver’s chuckle, but it was the warmth of a deadly fever. “You may even stand in my place, someday.”

“And all I need to do for it is betray my friends.”

“How many of them have genuinely been your friends, child?” Shadow Weaver’s voice was a slow drip of venom, seeping mercilessly into Catra’s ear. “Angella favours Glimmer, you know it. Adora, too – their relationship is no secret from me. Your allies in the Rebellion will follow Angella’s will; how could they do otherwise? Perhaps Bow can scrape together a small party, but all that will do is put them in danger.” The witch patted Catra softly on the shoulder. “I know the Horde has hurt you, hurt your fair-weather friends – but just think about the possibilities. Hordak relies so heavily on his second-in-command that they have quite broad latitude for how they carry out his goals. You could have the power to prevent so much harm to others. Far more than you would have in Brightmoon, the forgotten ward of a distant queen, your place at her right hand claimed by another. Think of the lives you could save, when you’re no longer playing second fiddle to my former apprentice, deemed worthy only by accident of birth.”

“Damn you,” hissed Catra. “Damn you for doing this…and damn me for accepting it.” She bowed her head. “I won’t live in her shadow. If the only way out is the Horde…then my loyalty is Hordak’s.”

The red light died down, and Catra descended to the ground, landing on her feet.

Shadow Weaver made a satisfied noise. “Very good, child. Force Captain Scorpia will be along shortly to introduce you to your new home.”

“I just wanna take care of one thing first,” said Catra.

Shadow Weaver doubled over as Catra’s fist slammed into her solar plexus. The magicat followed up with a backhand strike that left the sorceress sprawled in a heap on the floor.

“That,” said Catra grimly, “was for everything you did to Adora.” The corners of her mouth quirked upwards, but never quite formed a smile. “I did say that I was gonna kick your butt when I got out of there.”

* * *

The door just sat there. To all appearances, it was a standard-issue Fright Zone door. It did door-like things. It opened, and generally shortly afterwards, it closed. If it opened, and then opened again without closing, something was probably awry.

Scorpia had been looking at the door and thinking stuff like that for five minutes now. It wasn’t that she was frightened of Shadow Weaver, exactly, but Shadow Weaver was, um, well, okay, fine, she might have been a little frightened of Shadow Weaver. This wasn’t some princess, where she could put up a reasonable fight; this was Shadow Weaver, where if she made any trouble, she’d probably be put on a charge or court-martialled or shot or turned into a rat or something.

She tapped at the door with one claw, and after a moment, it slid open to reveal…

Mismatched blue and gold eyes, and a dusting of freckles.

It felt like half of Scorpia’s organs went into overdrive and the other half turned into stone on the spot, and which was which kept changing.

Unfortunately, her brain had clearly selected the latter. She fumbled around for an introduction, finding only traces of bad poetry she’d meticulously hidden around her room, occasionally burned, and would only admit to anyone actually existed if she was tortured. Not that she expected the princesses to torture her for her poetry, but stranger things had happened.

“Uh…hi,” she managed. “Shadow Weaver said I should come here because I needed to show a new recruit around. Is that you?” A thought occurred. “Because if it’s not, uh, please don’t kick me in the face again?”

“Again?” Catra did a double-take. “Oh yeah, you were at Plumeria.” A harsh note crept into her voice. “And Brightmoon.”

“Yeah. Uh. Hi.”

Catra seemed to relax, although her tail was clearly agitated. “Yeah, I’m the new recruit. Just joined. I liked the job prospects better.”

“Welcome aboard, then!” Scorpia looked around. “Where…uh, where is Shadow Weaver anyway?”

Those blazing eyes flicked downwards. “She’s…having a bit of a lie down. Ate something that disagreed with her.”

Scorpia’s forehead wrinkled in surprise and confusion. “Shadow Weaver can eat?”

She couldn’t quite make out Catra’s reply, but she was pretty sure the last word was fairly rude.

Catra thought for a moment. “Can we start with the communications room? I need to send a message. It might save us some trouble down the line.”

_And not just us. I owe Bow that much._

* * *

Bow was painstakingly explaining to Mermista that they probably had enough bombs for now when his tracker-pad chimed. He whipped the device out and thumbed the activation stud.

“…Huh. A transmission from the Fright Zone? Catra must have gotten out. We should hurry; they’ll be after her before long.”

He opened the message, and the screen was overtaken by static, which cleared to reveal Catra’s face. Her eyes flicked around the screen, scanning the edges – especially the bottom – but never meeting the camera dead-on. Her hair was in utter disarray, a jagged mane of uncontrollable strands.

“Bow. I suspect that when you receive this, you’ll be planning some sort of doomed rescue attempt. I’m sending this message to tell you to stop. I don’t want you getting hurt trying to save me; I don’t need saving.”

She steeled herself with obvious effort; he’d seen her calmer while under fire. “I’ve joined the Horde, Bow. I know Adora’s going to say I was brainwashed; I wasn’t. This is my choice. I know they’ve done some really bad stuff, but I don’t know, maybe I can defuse the worst of it. And if not…I may be slipping into darkness, but I won’t spend another day in Glimmer’s shadow. Angella’s made her choice…so I’m making mine.”

Her eyes finally locked onto the camera, and Bow flinched to see the pain in them. “I’d say I hoped to see you again, but that would probably be on the battlefield. Believe me when I say that I don’t want to hurt you…and I’ll always treasure our friendship. Even if it’s just ended.”

Her voice cracked. “Goodbye, Bow. Take care of yourself.”

The recording dissolved into static.

* * *

Bow closed the door to Angella’s quarters, fighting to drive the anger from his body. He had delivered the report in person, and it had been a struggle not to turn it into a furious rant about how Angella had treated her ward. It was still taking a lot of his energy not to turn around and begin shouting.

Glass shattered, and he spun on his heel, moving with the speed of instinct. He swung the door open, alert to any potential risk -

-to find the queen slumped before what had once been a mirror, her wings hanging limp and formless. It was as if something had cut the strings holding the Queen upright. She didn’t seem to register his presence, not even lifting her head in response to his arrival. The only part of her that showed any life were her hands, which were clenched into fists, sparks of the Moonstone’s energy scattering from them like rain. The wreckage of a bowl lay in the midst of the shattered glass, clearly the source of the damage.

After a moment, Bow realised that Angella was whispering something under her breath. Another moment, and he realised what that something was.

It was a prayer.

“Brightest and most radiant moons…please. Please, I beg you, see her back safely to us. To me. Please…give me a chance to make this right.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry to say that the next chapter is going to be even harder on Catra, so it's going to get worse before it gets better.
> 
> I hope it is at least comforting to my readers that it _will_ get better.


	5. Heirs of Brightmoon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Catra starts to stake out a position in the Horde...but is this what she really wants?

“And this,” said Scorpia, gesturing broadly, “is the primary mess hall. Serves ration bars and, uh, mostly just ration bars, honestly. Oh, that’s Octavia over there! Hi, Octavia! This is Catra, she’s new here-”

“We’ve met.” Octavia’s remaining eye narrowed at the sight of Catra; the scars poking out from under her eyepatch, a legacy of the battle in Seaworthy, were still a little bit red and angry. “I can’t say it went well. You’re just giving our enemies the grand tour now, Scorpia? I knew you were-”

“Whoa, whoa.” Scorpia held up her claws in a calming gesture. If she could prevent a fight, good; prevent Octavia from blowing her secret crush to Catra (not that it was much of a secret these days but oh well), also good. “Catra’s on our side now, Octavia. Shadow Weaver said.”

“I don’t care,” said the Force Captain pugnaciously. “She’s earned a very specific welcome, and I’m gonna give it to her.”

“Come on, Octavia. Just let bygones be bygones?” 

“She cost me this eye!” yelled Octavia, reaching for her weapon. “Joining the winning team isn’t going to save her from some payback-”

Catra burst out laughing, but the sound had knives in it. “Sorry! Sorry.” A malicious grin spread over her face. “It’s honestly kind of cute that you think you can take me. Really, it’s adorable. Which is why this isn’t going to be much fun for me.”

“What isn’t-”

Catra moved like lightning.

“I was wrong,” she said, smirking. “That was pretty fun.”

“I would’ve preferred bot-shield-laser,” said Octavia, her voice somewhat muffled by the table her face was being pressed into.

“Oh, I _like_ you. I think I’m gonna call you ‘Fake Mermista’.” Catra’s voice dropped to a growl. “Also, before you try _anything_ else like that, just take a moment and ask yourself: ‘how much do I like my other eye?’”

“My name isn’t-”

“Well, Fake Mermista? How much _do_ you like your other eye?”

Octavia was silent for a few moments, and then grated out, “I’m its biggest fan.”

“See? I’m not that hard to get along with, once you get to know me.” Catra let go of Octavia’s wrist, and her prey straightened up, gently massaging her right arm. “Fake Mermista here and I are just the best of friends now, aren’t we, Fake Mermista?”

“Sure,” said Octavia, in a voice like she was reading the words off cue cards. “The best of friends.”

* * *

As they walked away from the mess hall, Scorpia rubbed her claws together awkwardly and said, “So, uh, Catra, while it’s great to have you here and I’m sure we’re gonna be the best of friends, that seemed a bit…harsh? I mean, Octavia does have a legitimate grievance here. Also, she kinda needs her eye? It’s not like she can spare another one.”

Catra eyed her quizzically. “You didn’t think – of course you did. I was _bluffing_, Scorpia. I kno…knew enough ex-Horde people to have some idea of how things work here. So I picked someone who looked like they were in a solid position and showed them that I could hold my own. I’m not a monster; I’m just playing a part.”

“Okay, but not everything here is about that. What’s wrong with trying to make friends?”

“I think that option went off the table when I took her eye, don’t you?” Catra smiled coldly. “She’s always going to be an enemy, Scorpia…it’s just that now she’s an enemy who knows I can kick her butt any time I want.”

* * *

Catra forced her hands open as she waited outside Shadow Weaver’s chambers. The witch had seemingly been occupied with other matters for most of the past week, but her luck had finally run out and she’d been summoned.

On the one hand, Shadow Weaver had been the one to lure her here. She presumably had some investment in Catra continuing to be around. Catra wasn’t anywhere _near_ stupid enough to believe Shadow Weaver was interested in her career out of the goodness of whatever passed for her heart; people like Shadow Weaver always had ulterior motives. (She wasn’t sure Shadow Weaver had any _non_-ulterior motives.)

On the other hand, that punch to the gut probably counted against her. It was the kind of move that applied whole _buckets_ of influence to people in ways that did not make friends.

For bonus points, Scorpia had been sent on some errand by Grizzlor, so she didn’t even have backup. Not that Scorpia was likely to be useful backup; the big woman got a shade paler every time Shadow Weaver’s name was mentioned.

And that was why, as she waited for Shadow Weaver to open the door, she was having to keep her hands from clenching into fists, the better to launch a preemptive strike before the witch tried anything.

Finally, after about 33 years, the door slid open, and Shadow Weaver’s voice slithered out of the darkness. “Please, come in, child.”

Catra did so, and Shadow Weaver studied her dispassionately, her expression unreadable behind her mask. “You are settling in well, I hear. Staking out your territory.”

“Yeah.” Catra relaxed, just a bit. “You just gotta make the right first impression.”

“Admirably done, Catra. Brightmoon’s training is availing you well in the simulations, and you should be cleared for combat operations before long – under supervision, of course. You are well on your way to proving yourself.” She paused. “Oh…and one other thing.”

Pain coursed along Catra’s body, and she realised that she couldn’t move. Red energy flashed off her, and a halo of similarly coloured sparks ringed Shadow Weaver’s clenched fist.

“Lay a hand on me again and you will suffer,” said Shadow Weaver, still in that same conversational tone. She released her grip, and Catra fell to her hands and knees, breathing heavily.

“Don’t worry,” said Catra, between desperate gasps for air. “I won’t.”

“See that you don’t.” She gestured to the door. “The responsibilities of my position beckon, and surely you are needed elsewhere. You are dismissed.”

Catra fled.

* * *

The mountains were beautiful in the light of the rising and setting moons, but Catra didn’t have time to dwell on the panorama. It was nightfall, and the Horde was gearing up for a raid on the First One ruins in Dryl – in one of her reports, she’d apparently let slip something about Entrapta’s integration of First One tech with other systems, and Hordak had been interested in this potential new avenue for his research.

Her new uniform felt weird, but she could only assume that she’d get used to it. She’d ended up with something similar to Adora’s outfit, only darker: most of it was black, with a burgundy jacket. She’d even managed to get a mask made, although instead of a crescent moon, it was styled after the wings of a bat.

As she snapped back to reality, she heard voices up ahead – familiar ones.

Oh no.

Not them.

Light flared, turning dusk into daybreak for a few seconds, and She-Ra led the charge into the Horde lines, to be met by Scorpia and a squadron of drones.

Well, fine. Scorpia was one of the few people in the Horde able to meet Adora strength for strength. Long-distance scouts had reported unusual behaviour from the Moonstone, which meant that Angella had presumably managed to help Glimmer bond to it, and that, in turn, meant that Glimmer would be eager to put her new abilities to the test. Since her spells tended to be ranged blasts, Glimmer would be a bit behind the lines – _there_ she was.

A leap, a pounce, and she was in position.

“Hey, princess.” A vicious grin danced on Catra’s face, and she was a little ashamed to admit how eager she was for this confrontation. “I never did like you.”

“Catra.” Glimmer actually sounded a little sad. “I didn’t think you’d fall this far. You know what the Horde does-”

“And how long did _you_ know, princess? Thaymor was pretty early; didn’t see you having a crisis of conscience then! No, you didn’t flip until you realised that you could get more of what you wanted by changing sides. And now that your delayed revelation’s given you a loving mother and a hot girlfriend and a high rank in the Rebellion you were trying to destroy only a few months ago, suddenly you’re building a castle on the moral high ground?” Catra shook her head. “I don’t buy it, princess. We’re the same. You picked the side that would give you what you wanted, and so did I.”

“Did you, though? The Horde can’t give you what you really want-” 

Catra made a low, animal sound, and her claws flashed in the twilight.

The magicat had tended to keep her claws away from Adora, Bow, and more recently, Glimmer. The worst thing Bow, for example, had usually needed to fear was the sharp equivalent of a friendly tap on one arm, and even that didn’t happen often.

This wasn’t that. Glimmer moved her head at the last second, sparing most of her face the less-than-tender attentions of Catra’s claws, but they bit deep into the skin on her jawline. Her cry of pain mingled with the sound of her new powers as she seemingly instinctively teleported away from Catra.

Her face locked in a snarl, Catra drew a weapon from its holster on her thigh and extended it. She turned to where Adora and Scorpia fought, energy glaive in hand -

-only to find Bow standing between them, his face set.

“Get out of the way, Bow. I don’t wanna hurt you.”

“I don’t think you want to hurt _anyone_, Catra. Not deep down.” He raised his hands, showing that his bow wasn’t loaded. “You don’t have to do this. Come back with us. Back to Brightmoon.”

“I can’t.” Catra’s eyes flashed with roiling emotions. “I’ve wasted too much of my life chasing something I’ll never have. I’m not going back.”

“Please, Catra. You don’t understand! Angella-”

At the sound of that name, Catra made a noise of mingled pain and rage, like an animal with its foot caught in a trap. The glaive scythed through the air, blade thrumming with power, leaving a trail of ozone in its wake.

It buried itself in Bow’s shoulder, and he cried out in pain.

Catra could not have let go of the glaive’s handle faster if it had turned into a snake. Her mouth moved, but no sound came out, and she stepped backwards.

Hair and tail streaming behind her, she turned and fled, joining the general Horde retreat.

* * *

The mood was sombre in Brightmoon that evening. Bow’s shoulder and Glimmer’s jaw had been cleaned and bandaged, but the doctors thought it was likely that both wounds would scar, and Bow wasn’t going to be fit to even lift his namesake weapon for some time.

The remnants of the Best Friends Squad had united in the library. Bow and Glimmer were playing chess; Adora was hovering over Glimmer like a mother hen, her eyes continually flicking back to the covering on Glimmer’s left cheek.

“Honestly, Adora, it’s okay,” said the princess of Brightmoon wearily. “The scars weren’t even the worst part; I’m used to scars. The speech she gave me before that…I don’t mind saying that cut pretty deep, though.”

“You shouldn’t have listened,” said Adora. “She was just trying to hurt you. You didn’t-”

“But I did, Adora.” Glimmer’s tone brooked no argument. “I stayed in Brightmoon because it was good to _me_. If I’ve improved, become a better person…then it was after I made that choice, and I don’t know if I would have made it without knowing that there was already a place for me here – even if I had to earn it back, I went in knowing that I probably could.”

Adora made a noise like she was trying to line up angry syllables into a word, and Bow sighed internally. He studied the board for a moment and knocked over his king, a slightly awkward procedure given that his dominant hand was out of commission. “I don’t know why I play this against you, Glimmer. Only C-” He cut that sentence off immediately. “Adora and I aren’t strategists. I’m gonna go get something else to do, I should be back soon.”

As he retreated, Glimmer held her hand a few inches from Adora’s face. When Adora nodded, she reached out and gently touched the blonde’s cheek. “You’re not just mad that she hurt us, are you?” 

Adora thought for what felt like a very long time. “No, not just that. I’m mad that she did it, but…I’m also mad that I couldn’t stop her. What good am I if I can’t protect the people I love? What kind of girlfriend-”

“Adora, no. I don’t want what we have to just be another weight for you to carry.” She moved closer and leaned forward, touching her forehead to Adora’s. “Everyone always relies on you as it is. I don’t want to be another one. Let me be the one _you_ rely on. It’s just a scar; I’ve had scars before. Relax.”

Adora’s anger seemed to dissipate, but Glimmer could sense an edge of it still there, like leftover shards from a broken glass. “I’ll…I’ll try, Glimmer.”

* * *

Bow cursed as the heap of boxes began to slide. Leaving the games cupboard to the tender mercies of Adora, Glimmer and…and Catra had clearly been a mistake; they were less “arranged carefully” and more “piled haphazardly”. And as it stood, he didn’t have enough working arms-

A filmy, silvery-pink light shone, and the boxes came to a halt, as if they were pressed against a sheet of glass that wasn’t there.

“Here, let me help,” said Angella.

“Thank you, your majesty,” replied Bow, but he could tell that a sullen note hovered in his voice. Well, so be it.

Angella bowed her head. “And…how are the others?”

“Glimmer’s actually handling it surprisingly well; Adora’s…not.” There was an edge to his words as he added, “I’d really appreciate it if you’d weigh in; I know Adora sees you as a mentor, and while Glimmer goes out of her way to play things tough, she does care about your opinion.”

“I can’t, Bow. How can I look into their eyes, when so much of this is my responsibility? How can I give anyone advice when I don’t know what I’m doing?”

“Angella…look. At some point, if you want to be _anything_ to _anyone_, you’re going to have to stop hiding! You withdraw every time something goes wrong. You almost never open up. It took you three weeks to start even trying to reach out to Glimmer as a person, instead of just a blank space for you to pour your legacy into. If you want to have a family, really have one, and not just sit and watch from the sidelines, you’re going to have to actually get involved! You know why the whole family shows up at my dads’ place for Winterfest? Because they _put in the effort!_ Parenting is a _job_, Angella, not just a thing that happens by itself!”

There was a brief pause, and then a soft, sad chuckle escaped from Angella. “You’ve always been the wisest of us, Bow. Thank you.” She paused. “A long time ago, before I took the throne, the knights of Brightmoon were said to be chosen for their wisdom as well as their martial skill…”

“I don’t want some hollow title, Angella,” said Bow bluntly.

“That was not my intent…but I’m sorry. Please, go back to the others. I will look after this cupboard…and then I’ll join you.” Her voice was gentle, but its overtones were grim. “It sounds like I have a lot of ground to make up.”

Bow knew he should offer something comforting, but the best he could manage was, “Yeah. You do.”

* * *

“Scorpia?”

Scorpia blinked a couple of times in the darkness. “Catra? You okay?”

“Couldn’t sleep.” She didn’t meet Scorpia’s gaze. “You know that the people we fought today…used to be my friends.”

“And you’re feeling a bit…”

“I don’t want to talk about it; I just need some company. If you’ve got some cushions or something, we could pile them up-”

“Don’t be silly! The bed’s pretty big; there’s enough room to share.”

“I don’t wanna impose-”

“It’s not an imposition for a friend,” said Scorpia firmly. “Come on.”

Seemingly too tired to argue, Catra surrendered and took up a position on the edge of Scorpia’s bed. As Scorpia took up her own position on the other side, she could feel Catra curling up.

Shortly after the lights went out, Catra began to shake.

“It’s all right, Catra. Come here.” She reached out and drew Catra into a hug, and the shaking seemed to die down, just a little bit. Catra’s breath was coming in ragged gasps, like she was on the edge of tears, but in the light of the consoles, Scorpia could tell her eyes were dry.

The magicat stayed there, cocooned in the warmth of Scorpia’s arms, for the rest of the night.

* * *

_Later_

Moving cautiously, but with as much haste as she could manage, Catra ran through the prelaunch checks on the skiff. Grav systems looked good, thrusters were properly aligned. If she hurried, she could be done before…

Before Scorpia realised what she was doing.

It was funny how Scorpia had become so important to her, so quickly. Opening up to Bow had taken weeks; Adora, several days. She’d been relying on Scorpia since she came here.

She’d made a name for herself. Gotten some respect. Even Mantenna had nodded in approval at some of her strategic insights.

Strategy was easy. She didn’t need to hurt anyone to do it, just push around counters on a map. She knew it wasn’t that simple, that someone down the line was going to suffer, but as long as she stayed away from the field, it was so easy to pretend otherwise.

It was so easy…until it wasn’t. Day after day had become an exercise in keeping it together during daylight hours, then retreating into the impenetrable fortress of Scorpia’s arms when the day was done.

Just over two weeks ago, Scorpia had impulsively kissed her. And she’d returned it.

This, too, had become part of the routine. Nothing beyond kissing, neither of them felt ready to take that step, but she’d grown used to the pressure of Scorpia’s lips against hers. To the feeling of arms around her, and a voice whispering _it’s gonna be okay, wildcat_ in her ear.

And she did care about Scorpia…which was part of the problem, really.

Because she couldn’t stay here. Playing the monster had been fun, for a while. No fears, no consequences – none she had cared about, anyway.

But after she’d hurt Bow, it had started to pall with record time. The ration bars, never pleasant to begin with, had started to turn to ash in her mouth. Bullying the others, and she was under no illusions that it was anything other than bullying, did nothing to ease her mood.

So she’d made a decision. Which was why she was in a Horde vehicle hangar in the dead of night, trying to hijack a skiff before Scorpia-

“Catra?”

-noticed she was gone.

“Catra, what are you…uh…planning a late-night patrol? Is this, like, a cool secret mission thing? ‘Cause I’ve done secret missions. I can help, maybe-”

“I’m not going on a mission, Scorpia.” Catra didn’t lift her eyes from the engine. “And I’m not coming back.”

“But if you’re not going, then…”

“I am going, Scorpia.” Every word sounded like it was being drawn out of her with a winch. “I’m going back to Brightmoon.”

“Why?”

“Because I can’t stay here, not for another day.” She released a shuddering breath. “Because Brightmoon is my home. I’m done running from my actions, Scorpia. I care about you…but there are other people I care about, too, and I hurt them. I need to go back.”

“Catra…wildcat…wait.” Scorpia laid a gentle hand on Catra’s shoulder. “Please. I know you’ve had a rough time of it, that you’re still getting used to the Horde, but you’re doing great. You just need to stick it out.”

“I have to do this, Scorpia. It’s the only thing I _can_ do.”

“Wildcat.” The big woman’s eyes were brimming with tears, and Catra flinched. “Was…What we have. Had, I guess. Was it real?”

Catra was silent for what felt like a very long time. “…I don’t know, Scorpia. I wish I did. I want it to be real, more than almost anything. But I don’t know. I don’t know if Shadow Weaver is trying to use you to keep me here or if this is genuine or what. I…I don’t even know how to tell. I spent so much of my life chasing a place in Angella’s family that I never even tried to find any other kind of love. And now, when I might have found it…I can’t stay to learn. Not and live with myself.”

The silence hung over them for a few seconds, and then Catra reached out a hand. “Come with me. You don’t belong here. You’re a princess; they’ll welcome you with open arms. Please. If not for your own sake, then for mine. The Horde will wear you down until it can break you, turn you into the monster Hordak wants. Into something like Mantenna or Octavia. Or me. And…and I don’t want that for you. I want to see you get what you really deserve, and it’s something the Horde can’t give you.”

“No.” Scorpia’s voice, usually so steady, wavered as she spoke. “I can’t go with you, wildcat. Scorpions are loyal to the end.”

“I wish cats were,” said Catra morosely. “All right then, Scorpia. I’m sorry. For everything. And especially for this. For the sake of what we had, however real it was…”

Pain shot through Scorpia’s body; she recognised it as the feeling of a stun prod striking. She could dimly feel it as Catra gently lowered her to the ground, but unconsciousness beckoned, and she wasn’t going to be able to hold onto consciousness for much longer.

“…I can’t let you be punished for my desertion. I’m sorry.”

The last thing Scorpia heard before darkness claimed her was the sound of a skiff humming to life.

* * *

At the sight of Catra, the dead-white scar tissue on Glimmer’s jaw began to itch.

She was the first one to enter the cell – or the best Brightmoon could do for a cell, anyway. The magicat had arrived while the four of them were returning from a diplomatic visit to Plumeria; a few hours sooner, and they would have met her at the gate.

The guards, acting on the best orders they had, had prepared the usual guest cell and bundled Catra in, a rope linking her ankle to the bed the only thing between her and freedom. To someone with Catra’s skills, breaking out of here would have been easy; if she wanted to leave, she could have gotten out of here like water running through a sieve. That the magicat was still here could only be a sign that she intended to _stay_ here.

Something deep in her gut told her this had been a mistake. They should have sent in someone else. Bow, perhaps-

On the other hand, she’d seen Catra’s flight after wounding Bow’s shoulder. Pushing that button again probably wasn’t a good idea, at least until they’d had a chance to feel out the territory they were in.

“Hey, princess.”

Glimmer had heard those words delivered in anger, in bitterness, in icy indifference, even, on a couple of good days, in relative happiness. She’d never heard them delivered in this tone of utter defeat before.

“Catra. Why did you come back?”

“Got homesick,” said Catra, utterly failing to project an air of flippancy. “Why are you here, princess? I thought you didn’t even like me.”

“I don’t.” Glimmer let that sit in the air for a moment, and then added, “But Bow does.”

“I don’t want your pity, princess. And I especially don’t want Bow’s pity by proxy.”

“It’s not pity, Catra. I know what you’ve been through-”

“How could you possibly know what it’s been like for me?!”

“Because I’ve _been_ you!” snapped Glimmer. “You said we were the same, and you were right! I spent _years_ in the Horde angry that Adora got all the credit. I’ve been second fiddle! It sucks!” She made a noise like venting steam. “Turns out that sometimes first fiddle also sucks. Who knew, huh?”

They sat for a few moments, neither speaking. Catra’s ragged breaths sounded very loud in the silence.

Glimmer broke it first. “Angella was devastated, you know. She prayed for the moons to watch over you, every night.”

“You don’t have to lie for my sake, princess.”

“I’m not lying!”

“Get out.”

“I-”

“I said get out!” snarled Catra.

Glimmer knew Catra well enough to know that if anyone was going to get through to the magicat, it wasn’t going to be her. She bowed her head and left.

* * *

By Bow’s own estimation, this was the most stressed out he’d ever been.

Worse than trying to keep the peace between Catra and George. Worse than that first date with Perfuma. _Way_ worse than even his very first actual fight.

And Adora wasn’t helping.

“I should be there,” she said, for what was probably the fifth time in the last ten minutes. “Catra’s already attacked Glimmer once, I’ll bet she’s just waiting to do it again. She betrayed us once already! I should be there in case she tries anything-”

“Adora, _stop_.” Bow didn’t try to be commanding often, but that just meant it had more of an impact when he did. Adora’s diatribe came to a sudden halt. “I don’t know why Catra’s here, but if she was up to something, why would she have turned herself in? If anyone could have just crept into Brightmoon and found somewhere to hide, it’d be her – she’s been here longer than any of us.”

“She hit you with a glaive! We can’t trust her-”

“I’m not asking you to!” Bow snapped. “I’m just asking you to calm down for five minutes!”

Adora grunted wordlessly and headed for the door, barging past the returning Glimmer as she did. “I’m gonna go have a word with her. She needs to know _someone_ is going to keep an eye on her.”

Bow made a frustrated noise, and Glimmer eyed him suspiciously.

* * *

The door swung open violently, and Catra’s head jerked upwards to look at her visitor.

“Hey, bright-eyes-”

“Save it,” hissed Adora. “I want to know what you’re up to. Why did you come here?”

“Because this is my home,” said Catra hotly. “I’m turning myself in.”

“I don’t believe you! You disappear for months, reappear only to attack us, and now, after we haven’t seen hide nor hair of you since then, suddenly you’re back? Seems a little bit _really suspicious_ to me!”

“What do you want me to say, Adora? That I regret leaving? That I should have stayed? That if I could take back the damage I’ve done, I would? That’s all true! But that won’t help, will it?”

“No. No, it won’t. Glimmer had an excuse; the Horde was how she’d been raised. What’s yours, Catra?”

“…I don’t have one,” said Catra hollowly. 

“I didn’t think you did.”

As Adora headed for the door, seething with rage, Catra spoke.

“That promise to be less of a jerk to you didn’t really work out, did it?”

“No,” said Adora coldly. “It didn’t.”

The door slammed behind her.

* * *

Glimmer concentrated for a moment and drew the warding sigil. “Okay. The room is silenced. I know you’re angry; this way you can say whatever you like and nobody is going to hear it but me.”

“I don’t need to say anything,” said Bow sullenly, “and I’m not angry.”

“Pull the other one, Bow. You’ve been like this for weeks; bottling more up isn’t going to help.”

Bow’s muscles tensed, and he snapped, “All right! Yes, I’m angry! How could I _not_ be?” The table rattled as Bow slammed a fist into it, and Glimmer made a mental note to remember that while Bow was the nicest man alive, the parts of him that weren’t heart were mostly other kinds of muscle. “My best friend freaks out, joins the Horde, takes me out of action for months, and I can’t even be properly mad at her because this could be my only chance to get her back!” He went limp. “Am I angry at the wrong people? Is this my fault?”

“Bow, no. I don’t think _anyone’s_ done as much for her as you have.” Glimmer’s voice hardened. “Including Angella.”

“I’m just…frustrated, I guess. This whole mess could have been avoided if Angella had just _talked to her_. And now Adora won’t shut up about it…” He froze. “Sorry, I know you two are-”

“No, honestly, it’s okay. I think…I think she wishes she’d seen it coming and headed it off somehow.”

“I think it’s more than that, though,” said Bow, the anger in his voice giving way to sorrow. “Catra’s been Adora’s…mentor, I guess, since Thaymor. Angella made her responsible for Adora, and Adora always went to her for advice. So when she left…How would the Horde handle the students of a traitor, incidentally?”

“The Horde didn’t have much of a mentoring program, but when something like that did happen, they’d probably fall under suspicion…Oh.”

Neither of them spoke for a few seconds, and then Glimmer said, “You love her, don’t you?” She coughed. “Catra, I mean.”

“Not the way you love Adora – and even if I did, she…knows what she likes, and I wouldn’t be it. It’s more like…like she’s one of my sisters, I guess.”

The library door swung open, and Bow’s stomach sank into his boots to see Adora standing there, her expression furious.

Glimmer nudged him. “I think that’s your cue. Go talk to your sister, Bow. I’ll have a word with Adora.”

* * *

“I brought you some dinner,” said Bow. “It’s chicken.”

“Great. Leave it on the floor and get out.”

“Catra, come on. I’m your friend-”

“_Why?_” Catra’s voice was a torrent of emotion: anger, desperation, a few fleeting, scattered flashes of hope. “I betrayed you. Attacked you. Attacked the others. Don’t think I don’t see the scar I gave you! Can you even still shoot a bow? You should hate me, like Adora does. Why don’t you?”

“I could never hate you, Catra. And I don’t think Adora does either, deep down. She’s just angry and confused, and she’s taking it out on you.” Bow bent down slowly and put the plate within Catra’s reach.

“Stop it, Bow. Just…stop.” She sounded more tired than anything else. “Even when we were friends, I was always taking from you. You put in so much work to help me and all I ever gave you was snide comments and getting in a snit when you made new friends. You’ve given enough. Just go.”

“That’s not true. That’s probably the least true thing you’ve said so far, even. I’m your friend because I _want_ to be. If I’d never met you…I’d probably still be the timid, bookish kid who came to Brightmoon to train as an archivist. The guy who’d spend an entire party at the wall, studying a plant, because he didn’t have the confidence to reach out to anyone and try to make friends.” He smiled. “The guy who would have already backed down from this conversation. But I’m not that guy, and I’m not giving up on you. You wouldn’t have come back if you didn’t want to make things right.”

“I envy your optimism, Bow.” Catra laughed, a harsh, ugly sound. “It always comes back to envy, in the end.”

* * *

Glimmer steeled herself for what she needed to do. “Adora, I want you to calm down about Catra. You don’t have to forgive her, just…relax for five seconds. You said you trusted me, and now I need you to trust me on this: Catra isn’t our enemy, and nobody is worried about your loyalties. You can afford to _back off_.”

“She betrayed us,” said Adora pugnaciously.

“I betrayed you, too. More than she did, even.”

“That’s different-”

“_How_?” Adora stepped back, as if the sudden explosion had rattled her. “How is it different? Because as the betrayer in this scenario, I don’t see it! I chose to hurt you and the others because I thought it would get me what I wanted, and it took me _weeks_ of living here to start feeling sorry that I did it!”

“I thought you wanted me to rely on you, Glimmer!”

“You can!” Glimmer took a deep breath, her eyes on fire. “But sometimes that means you can rely on me to _call you out!_”

“I can’t believe you’re defending her!” Adora waved a hand at the dead white marks on Glimmer’s jawline. “She gave you those!”

“And I could have given her worse!” yelled Glimmer. She got herself under control with visible effort. “I could have given _you_ worse, if you didn’t heal so quickly as She-Ra. I’ve thrown attack spells at you, at her, at Bow – and I know what those feel like. I know the kind of marks they leave, how long they can hurt.”

Adora’s anger dissipated like mist at midmorning. “Your scars,” she said, her voice hushed.

“Reminders from Shadow Weaver to work on my spellcraft,” said Glimmer bitterly. “Don’t you see, Adora? I _knew_ how much some of those spells I threw at you could hurt, and I used them anyway.”

“I thought you didn’t even like Catra.”

“I don’t! But if she can’t be forgiven or make amends…then what does that say about me? I did much worse than her while I served the Horde, and she left them for _better_ reasons than I did! Moons’ sake, Adora – she wanted to make things right, I just thought the living conditions were better!” Glimmer made a noise of wordless frustration. “If she’s beyond redemption, how much worse must I be?”

“Glim…” Adora pulled her girlfriend into a hug. “You’re right, and I’m stupid. I’m sorry. I just…I don’t understand. I don’t know how she could do what she did.”

“Then aren’t you glad you have me?” said Glimmer, her voice morose. “When it comes to making stupid decisions out of jealousy, I’m an expert.”

* * *

The door opened one more time, and light fell on an untouched plate of chicken, left abandoned on the floor. The prisoner was sitting curled up, her forehead resting on her knees, tail curled around her legs. It was as if she was trying to put as many layers between her heart and the door to her cell as possible.

Catra didn’t even lift her head at the sound. “I told you to just leave me alone-”

“Catra.” At the sound of Angella’s voice, Catra’s ears flattened against her head. “I think we need to talk.”

“So talk,” said Catra hoarsely. “Tell me how badly I screwed up. How disappointed in me you are.”

“Oh, Catra…Why would I be disappointed in you, when your only sins are the ones I taught you? We’re the same, Catra. We both betray the ones we love.” Catra struggled to find a reply, and failed, so Angella continued, “I betrayed my husband by sending him to battle and remaining in Brightmoon, when I should have fought at his side. I betrayed my daughter by leaving her in the hands of Shadow Weaver, when I should have given all I could to find a way to save her. And…and I betrayed my other daughter, by never telling her that’s what she was. By keeping her at arm’s length, never letting her in, never reaching out, just taking it for granted that she would always be there when I needed her…even when I was never there for her. By piling weight after weight on her back, when all I should have done was tell her, a thousand times, that she was loved.”

“Great,” said Catra, her voice as bitter as wormwood. “Go tell Adora you’re adopting her-”

“I’m not talking about Adora.”

It took Catra a few seconds to realise the implications of that, and her eyes went wide. Almost against her will, her head came up, and she met Angella’s gaze. The queen’s eyes were brimming with tears.

“I wronged you, Catra, more than I think I can ever make up for,” said Angella softly. “I should have found you a family who would show you the love you needed…the love you deserved. Instead, I kept you with me, to ease my loneliness…but I did nothing to ease yours, because to open up, to admit, even to myself, what you meant to me…was to permit flaws in my armour. Was to risk another loss, another wound. I kept my guard up, left a distance between us, even as you fought to make me proud, again and again. And then…and then you left, driven to the dark by my neglect. I was afraid I’d lost you forever, and I knew that it would be no-one’s fault but mine.” Tears were streaming down Angella’s face, and Catra realised her own vision was starting to blur. “I know I’ve caused you a lot of pain over the years. Can you ever forgive me?”

Catra hadn’t cried, not like this, since…since she was seven, when she’d realised why Elaysia had never come back from that mission. It was as if all the tears she should have shed since then were pouring out of her, all at once.

“…I want to.” It took the magicat a few seconds to realise she’d even spoken. “But it’s like I’ve got love and hate and all the other stuff just…tangled up inside me, and I don’t know how to untangle them.” She smiled through the tears. “But I’m gonna try.”

“That’s all I can ask.” Angella pulled her adoptive daughter into a hug. “I’m sorry, Catra. I’m so, so sorry.”

* * *

The door to the library swung open, and all eyes were drawn to it like iron filings to a magnet.

“Don’t all applaud at once,” said Catra drily. Her eyes were tinted red from crying, and she looked utterly exhausted, but there was a faint smile on her face. She bowed stiffly to Glimmer. “Sister.”

The implications of _that_ weren’t lost on anybody.

“Why are you here, Catra?” said Adora, stepping forward as if to put herself between Catra and the other two.

“I want to apologise.” Catra’s left hand fidgeted with her right wrist, then released it, and she stood as tall as she could. “I know that I can’t take back the damage I’ve done – to you or to others – and that I may never be able to earn your forgiveness, but I’m never going to stop trying to – and I’m never going to stop regretting hurting all of you.”

Purple light flared, and suddenly Glimmer was by her side. “Catra…Sister. I’ve got your back. If I can make up for what I did, so can you.”

“Thanks, princess. That actually means a lot.”

“I thought you didn’t even like me?” said Glimmer mischievously.

Fangs glinted as Catra flashed her a wicked grin. “Maybe I’m starting to come around.”

Bow was next to rise. “I knew you wanted to make it right, Catra.”

Adora studied them coldly and said, “I don’t forgive you, Catra. I thought I could trust you. I…relied on you, probably more than I should have.” Her voice softened. “But Glimmer’s right. I have to believe you can make up for it. Just like Glimmer did. Just like I did.”

“That’s all I’m asking,” said Catra, bowing her head. “Thank you.”

Then, finally, Adora rose to her feet. “That being said…” She pulled the three of them into an embrace. “It’s good to have you back, Catra. You belong here.”

Catra couldn’t even hazard a guess at how long the hug lasted before a fifth set of arms wrapped around them.

“Finally,” whispered the queen. “The whole family, together.”

* * *

“Ah, Shadow Weaver.” Hordak’s voice was as cold and hostile as the deepest ocean trench as Shadow Weaver collapsed onto the ground before him. “Once again, one of your projects has backfired. Your pet Rebellion defector knocked out her watcher, Force Captain Scorpia, stole a skiff and fled.”

He rose from his throne, looming over the fallen figure of Shadow Weaver. “That is three chances you have had to impress me, Shadow Weaver, and all three times you have failed. Your inferiority is clear to us all; do not disgrace yourself further with begging or threats.”

“I will give you neither,” hissed Shadow Weaver, rising to her feet. “At every turn I am sabotaged by the weaknesses of my inferiors…and now I see that you are no different from the rest of them. You sit atop your throne and judge me? I have kept your army on the march, your infrastructure functional, your experiments well-supplied for nearly a _generation_ while you lurked in your lab, emerging only to posture and play the melodrama villain. The Horde would be nothing without me. You are no longer worthy to lead this campaign; in truth, I doubt you ever were.”

Red lightning thrummed around her hands, and Hordak dropped into a fighting stance.

* * *

Hordak raised the gemstone from Shadow Weaver’s mask to his eye. “A fascinating development, Shadow Weaver…and one you squandered on childish tricks. What power could we have tapped from the Black Garnet, without your pathetic need to claim sole dominion over it?”

Shadow Weaver’s only response was a groan of pain. The entire battle had lasted less than a minute.

“Throw this refuse in a cell,” ordered the tyrant of the Fright Zone. “Ensure she is sent to Beast Island in the morning. And call the First Captains for a tactical briefing; perhaps it is time I took a more personal hand in this war…”

* * *

Bow completed his morning stretches and rose from the mat. The healers had told him that it would be another couple of months before he was fully recovered, so he was staying away from his weapon of choice, but he never missed the exercises he’d been given; he wanted to be back in action as soon as possible.

“Hey, Bow.”

He turned around to get a good look at his visitor. Catra had gone back to the purple clothes and blue-grey jacket she’d worn before her defection, and while she’d apparently given up on the ponytail, her hair was at least freshly combed. “Hey, Catra. It’s good to see you like this again – no Horde red and black.”

“Angella’s talking about getting something fancier done up, as befits my…new station, apparently.” She shrugged. “Maybe sometime. I want to get used to wearing my true colours again first.”

“Speaking of which…” Bow reached out with his good hand and opened a drawer. “You left this behind.”

Catra stopped breathing for a moment as she saw the silvery arc of her mask, hanging from Bow’s fingers. At some point, it had been polished, and it gleamed like it was new. “You kept it for so long, even after I attacked you?”

“I thought you’d want it when you came back – and I never doubted that you would. Not for a moment.”

Now it was Bow’s turn to have breathing difficulties, as Catra drove the contents from his lungs with a crushing hug. “Easy!” he managed to croak out. “I need that air!”

“I’m sorry.” She loosened her grip. “And I’m really sorry about your shoulder. If there’s anything I can do to help fix it, anything at all…”

“It’s recovering fine.” He paused. “I mean, if you’re going to bring me cold drinks and fan me with a giant palm frond or something I’m not gonna say no.”

She chuckled. “How are you this good a person, Bow? And how did such a good person end up friends with a disaster like me?”

“Well, it takes a lot of work to be this moral,” said Bow, smiling playfully. “It’s part of my exercise regime at this point; I can deadlift fifty pounds of ethics. If you’re interested, I can introduce you to my personal trainer.”

Catra’s only response was to laugh – not a harsh, or cruel, or ugly, or humourless laugh, but a sound of genuine joy.

It was going to take time until everything was fixed, and some things might never be. But a start had been made, and that was enough – at least for today.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew.
> 
> This fic has been a first for me in a lot of ways: first completed multi-chapter fic (I really need to get back to _Forged in Light and Shadow_ sometime), first fic to pass a thousand views and 50 kudos, first time I really committed to making a character miserable, and so on. All the thanks in the world to everyone who read, left kudos and/or commented.
> 
> This story is over, but it's not everything I've got planned for these kids: I want to do a much less..._yeah_ follow-up, a kind of apology for putting them through the wringer for 30,000+ words [1], where they get to relax for a bit and have fun and nobody betrays anyone (there will probably still be sad conversations, because why change a winning formula), and I've got some vague ideas percolating for a sequel.
> 
> (I also have like nine other fics planned because my brain is a constant hamster wheel of inspiration that suddenly dries up the moment anything actually needs to be written. THANKS BRAIN)
> 
> I stole “Winterfest” from alettepegasus’s “Sweater Weather”, found at https://archiveofourown.org/works/21927715
> 
> Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> [1] that being said my Making Catra Sad scorecard is still way behind Noelle Stevenson's


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